THE REVERBERATING SPACE OF IZMIR:

LEVANTINES’ INTERPENETRATING HOMES

Thesis submitted to the

Institute for Graduate Studies in the Social Sciences in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts

in

Sociology

by

Selin Ayşe Kaner

Boğaziçi University

2008 Thesis Abstract

Selin Ayşe Kaner, “The Reverberating Space of Izmir: Levantines’ Interpenetrating

Homes”

This thesis is an attempt to understand the ways the Levantine community has formed relations to the Izmir’s city space since the inauguration of the Republic.

While the Levantines, in the nineteenth century cosmopolitan Izmir, exerted a considerable influence on the city and were visible in its public space, they lost their effectuality in the nationalized city and receded into their introverted spaces.

Levantines’ encounter with Turkish nationalism after the foundation of the

Turkish Republic has altered their small community in significant ways. In my thesis, I explore the ambiguities and tensions that arise during this process and their effects on Levantines’ experiences of Izmir’s city space with the help of in-depth personal interviews. As Levantines try to get rid of the stigma of being a ‘stranger’, they get enmeshed in Turkish nationalism. But to the extent that they are not encompassed by Turkish nationalism, they feel a longing for their community that is on the verge of extinction. Perpetually oscillating between being a ‘stranger’ and being a ‘native’, they emphasize being an ‘Izmirian’ and their longstanding ties to the city, reclaiming belonging.

iii Tez Özeti

Selin Ayşe Kaner, “İzmir’in Uğuldayan Mekânı: Levantenlerin İç İçe Geçmiş Evleri”

Bu tez çalışması, Cumhuriyet’in kuruluşundan itibaren Levanten cemaatinin bir mekân olarak İzmir şehriyle ilişki kurma biçimlerini anlama çabasıdır.

Levantenler, ondokuzuncu yüzyılın kozmopolit İzmir’inde şehir üzerinde

önemli etkiye sahip ve kamusal alanda görünür bir grup iken, şehrin

‘millileştirilmesinin’ ardından etkinliklerini çok büyük oranda kaybettiler ve kendi içedönük mekânlarına çekildiler.

Levantenlerin, Türkiye Cumhuriyeti’nin kuruluşundan sonra gerçekleşen,

Türk milliyetçiliğiyle karşılaşmaları, küçük cemaatlerini önemli değişimlere uğrattı.

Tezimde, bu süreçte ortaya çıkan ikircikliklerle tansiyonlarını; ve de bunların

Levantenlerin İzmir’in şehir mekanını deneyimlemelerini nasıl etkilediğini birebir derinlemesine görüşmelerin yardımıyla araştırıyorum. Levantenler ‘yabancı’ damgasından kurtulmaya çalıştıkça Türk milliyetçiliğine yakınlaşıyorlar. Türk milliyetçiliğinin onları kapsayamadığı noktalarda, yokolmanın kıyısındaki cemaatlerine özlem duyuyorlar. ‘Yabancı’ olmak ve ‘yerli’ olmak arasında sürekli gidip gelen Levantenler, İzmirli olmalarını ve İzmir’le olan eskiye dayanan bağlarını vurgulayarak aidiyetlerini tekrar kuruyorlar.

iv Acknowledgements

First of all, I want to thank my advisor Prof. Biray Kolluoğlu for her guidance, belief in my research and enthusiasm. I am also indebted to her for the emotional support she gave me. Although most of the time, during the writing of this thesis, I hid myself out of shame and uselessness, I felt her unwavering compassionate support with me at all times. Without her deep understanding, tolerance and concern I would have never made it to the end. I am deeply grateful to you.

I want to thank Prof. Meltem Ahıska and Prof. Cengiz Kırlı for their insightful criticisms.

I am grateful to Güzin Özkan for her constant kindness and assistance.

I would like to express my feeling of gratitude to the Levantine women who accepted not only to open their ideas and feelings but also their homes to me.

My debts are owed to my grandmother Gina Milovich for supporting me and for providing my link to the community.

I am profoundly grateful to my parents Elena and Cengiz Kaner for their unfading encouragement, support and patience. A special thanks to my father again, he knows why.

I would like to thank my sister Sibel Kaner Ferenc for her loving support and for her patience with my absence especially at a time when she was laboring to give life to her little daughter.

I owe special thanks to Evren Luş for his deep empathy, for having always made me feel his loving, supportive presence by me and for turning even the hardest

v times into memories to cherish. Furthermore, this thesis owes a lot to his organizational skills. Thank you so much.

Lastly, I thank Gökçe Susam who has always been with me and confronted my ups and downs while I was trying to make myself sit and write. The incessant dialogues we have had, helped me sort out my way not only in this thesis but also simply in life. Thank you for abiding with me.

To Gökçe and Evren who

have been my home in Istanbul

vi CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION ...... 1

CHAPTER 2: A SEARCH THROUGH THE BACKGROUND OF IZMIR AND THE RISE OF THE LEVANTINE COMMUNITY...... 5

The Economic Relations that Led to the Emergence of the Cosmopolitan Port City of Smyrna ...... 6 The Structure of Levantine Society: Legal Status, Ethnicity, Confession, Language and Class ...... 12 Tensions on the Urban Space: The Loosening of Communitarian Boundaries, Imperial Harmonization and the Rise of Nationalisms...... 24 End of Nineteenth Century: Cosmopolitanism and its Demise ...... 28

CHAPTER 3: UNEASY HOMES: STIRRINGS BETWEEN THE ‘HOMEY’ AND THE ‘UNHOMEY’...... 45

Home as a Key Concept to Understand Levantines’ Senses of Belonging ...... 45 Porous Boundaries between the Home and the World ...... 50 The Home as a Material and Imaginary Refuge ...... 55 Home Creating Homelessness: Natives and Strangers60 Ghosts of Belonging………...... 67

CHAPTER 4: ENCLOSING AND UNCLOSING HOMES: LEVANTINES RETERRITORIALIZING THEMSELVES IN IZMIR...... 78

The Borders of Levantinity...... 78 Enclosing Homes ...... 82 Uneasy Encounters...... 92 Unclosing Homes...... 101 Wanting Homes...... 106

CHAPTER 5: CONCLUSION...... 111

APPENDICES...... 116 A. List of Interviewees...... 116 B. Original Texts of the Quoted Interviews...... 121

REFERENCES...... 135

vii CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION

Levantines of Izmir are the Catholic or Protestant residents who have come to the city mostly after the seventeenth century. They were active in external trade, banking, mining, shipping, overseas insurance and production. Though Levantines were never populous in the city’s overall population they nevertheless were an important part of city’s business life in terms of capital, expertise and connections.

For Frangakis-Syrett, as the dominant actors in the city’s integration to international trade and European economy, Levantines were also significant in giving the city its cosmopolitan culture and identity.

In the nineteenth century the city was composed of Turkish, Armenian,

Greek, Jewish and Frank quarters. Especially proliferating in the nineteenth century, the respective communities had their own institutions such as churches, schools, hospitals, charities as well as social clubs, theatres, dancing halls, coffee shops.

Levantines at the beginning of the twentieth century underwent along with other inhabitants of the city unsettling changes. In 1919, they witnessed the Greek administration established in Izmir, then the coming of the Turkish troops and their reclaiming the city, they saw the Great Fire of 1922 and the Greeks and Armenians who were forced to flee to never come back again. They saw their neighborhood, the

Frank quarter burn down along with the Greek and Armenian neighborhoods.

Levantines and Jews were the two major remaining non-Muslim communities in

Republican Izmir. However, Levantines having lost their neighborhood and social space were burdened with creating themselves new spaces in the nationalized city where they have lost their former power.

1 In this respect, I will try to concentrate on questions like: How do the

Levantines, which are placed on the margins of the ‘community of common identity’ of the nation, make themselves at home in Republican Izmir? How do they consume this city space and produce new spaces where they can reproduce their community?

As Kolluoğlu-Kırlı denotes the fire was a symbolic rupture between the

Empire and the new nation state. It included the erasing of Ottoman spaces and the attached memories and imagination to clear the space for a Muslim-Turkish nation.

The Levantines in this new city space was a residue of the Ottoman past and had ghostly effects. In a more general framework, I want to ask: How does the Turkish nation-state contain this residue? How does it deal with its ghosts?

In this research, my main concept will be the home. I will try to think of the home as an affective space that has the power to bring a community together. In searching through the Levantines’ senses of belonging that refer to distant and immediate geographies, I will try to understand how their senses of home are contextualized in certain spaces.

Following Massey, I consider the home as a nodal point of relations that contain other spaces through its links. Such a consideration has the advantage to explore the home as it changes because as Bachelard explains the house is flexible, its walls can expand and contract. Its dynamism is in the hands of the dreamer inhabitant.

I consider both the nation and the Levantine community as homes that promise to be a refuge to its members. Homes which are subject to the vicissitudes of everyday life and to the burden of history are also places of tension where the lack of everyday and the fullness of losses are dealt with. In this respect, homes are situated between the real and the ideal, they can be both refuges and prisons, they can both

2 provide shelter and create homelessness. Throughout the interviews, I have tried to depict these moments of tension and how they affect Levantines’ senses of home and belonging.

As far as I have learned from the community members, there are about 1350

Levantines resident in Izmir. The Levantine community of Izmir is a community on the verge of extinction. However, older members vividly remember when there was a closed communitarian life. With the disintegration of the community home, the remaining inhabitants tend to seek refuge in other homes and mostly in the larger

‘home of the nation’. The diminution of the size of a community which was once closely knit and hard to penetrate cannot guarantee its opening up, something must have facilitated it. So through the research I also looked for these facilitative factors that have led the Levantine community of Izmir to integrate with the Muslim-Turkish elites of the city.

For this research, I have chosen to speak to women exclusively. The choice was guided by the fact that the community life began to take place especially in the family houses after the nationalization of the city space. Levantines’ feeling that they were threats to the unity and homogeneity of the nation made them recede in the private spaces of their homes. Women are the ones who are given the task of homemaking and it is through homemaking that the identity of a particular family is anchored in the physical being of the home. (Young, 140) Likewise, Bachelard points how women with the care they bestow to the house, enliven and move it in time. As he puts it: “From one object in a room to another, housewifely care weaves the ties that unite a very ancient past to the new epoch. (...) A house that shines from the care it receives appears to have been rebuilt from the inside”. (Bachelard, 68) In this respect, I thought that speaking with women will guide me in a peculiarly

3 significant way in understanding the links of these small homes to the world.

Obviously, this will also have its particular limitations and biases.

The fieldwork was realized in Izmir in the spring and summer of 2007. My access to the community was through my grandmother who is also an Izmirian

Levantine. I started with her friends and then asked them for further contacts. For this research, I have conducted thirty five interviews with twenty five Izmirian

Levantine women. While most of the interviews were conducted in Turkish, a few of them were done in French. All the women knew Turkish, however, some of the elderly spoke it with difficulty and some felt more at ease in French. At least one of the several interviews with each woman took place in their own homes except the three of them. I indicated these in the appendix. Except two of my interviewees all of the Levantine women were living in the houses they owned that were situated in the middle and upper middle class neighborhoods of Izmir. Actually, as they themselves also explained, the remaining Levantines in Izmir are composed of middle and upper middle classes. This aspect of the community is significant in how they experience

Izmir and construct their homes.

As Levantines are an extremely rooted and space bound community, I decided to consecrate the first chapter to the history of Levantines’ enmeshment in the Izmir’s city space.

4 CHAPTER 2: A SEARCH THROUGH THE BACKGROUND OF IZMIR AND THE RISE OF THE LEVANTINE COMMUNITY

I will try to consider the city, once called Smyrna, as a “meeting place” following

Doreen Massey’s conceptualization of space and place. She encourages us to consider places not as enclosed units with boundaries but as particular nodal points in a complex web of relations whose arms reach far beyond immediate apprehension.

One of the advantages of that sort of thinking is that it has the chance to escape from the imposing dichotomy of the inside/outside. Then it won’t be necessary to define

“it” with what “it is not”. Rather taking a point in space, we will need to trace the lines that bind it to other points. We will look for the outside in the inside and the inside in the outside. The history of a place in this case is the amalgamation of layers of relations. How a place is placed within relations that tie it to the closest and to the farthest, how these are affected by the history or the already accumulated relations of that place, what sorts of asymmetries of power are inhered in them, how they are interpreted and endowed with meaning, all these are actually what makes places in their peculiarity for Massey.

In the first part of this chapter, I will try to trace the economic relations that tie Smyrna to the Ottoman Empire and Europe. I start by describing the economic relations because they have a special importance in the city’s flourishing as an international port and in the creation of its Levantine community.

5 The Economic Relations that Led to the Emergence of the Cosmopolitan Port City of Smyrna

For Frangakis-Syrett, Smyrna has been an important port since antique times.

However it gained its prominence in the second half of the eighteenth century by its increased integration into European trade. From 1754 to the dissolution of the

Empire Smyrna was carrying out the greatest numbers of export goods to the west when compared with other Ottoman ports. (Frangakis-Syrett, “Bakış”, 73)

In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries Ottoman Government’s preoccupation with the provisioning of Istanbul and its military machine (fruits and olive oil comprised the main bulk of this provision), put off the improvement of international trade in Western Anatolia. Still, an insignificant trade westward was taking place from Izmir which was at the moment situated outside the existing trade routes.

(Goffman, 10)

The beginning of seventeenth century marks Smyrna’s turn towards a commercial center. The search of the Atlantic commercial states (the Dutch, the

English and the French) of an alternative route to the Portuguese dominated sea route to Asia and also the search for an alternative to the terminals of caravans such as

Aleppo and Alexandria where Armenian, Jew, Venetian and French merchants had already long established networks helped draw the merchant states to Smyrna.

Smyrna appeared as a port in the eastern Mediterranean that was less subject to long- established rules and regulations. This search’s coincidence with the Celali rebellions that caused the weakening of Ottomans’ control of Anatolia and its provisioning network was also contributory. Initially, this newly formed network was Western controlled. (Goffman, 140-142) The establishment of consulates in Smyrna that

6 started with the French in 1619 and soon followed by English and Dutch was also a sign of Smyrna’s mounting importance. (Frangakis-Syrett, Commerce, 24)

On the other hand, at the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth centuries the Capitulation agreements were being settled between the

Sultan and the European countries. They were unequal trade agreements that benefited European merchants at the expense of local businessmen.

In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the city was mainly composed of

Turks and a small Greek community. (Goffman, 142) At the beginning of the seventeenth century the demographic composition of the city had also significantly changed. It received new inhabitants mostly from the Aegean basin, from inner

Anatolia and also from Europe. Along with the European merchants many Armenian,

Jewish and Greek merchants were attracted to this growing commercial center each forming their communities. Joining them were the producers whose industries and sustenance were shattered by the region’s changing economic structure. The non-

Muslim population of Izmir was increased ten fold between 1580 and 1640 forming a multi-ethnic, multi-religious and multi-linguistic city. (Goffman, 143) The purchase of local produce for export by European merchants who were able to pay more destructed both the provisioning network of Istanbul and the production of local manufacturers who used to depend on these raw materials. As Goffman puts it “The penetration of western trading states more indirectly influenced the region’s economy and society, dispossessing and transplanting natives, jarring industries and altering agricultural structures”. (Goffman, 74)

So not only the city of Smyrna but also a whole area was changing dramatically as a result of being integrated into the larger economic system as an international supplier. New crops were introduced at the expense of other long

7 existing ones and the agriculture in Western Anatolia began to be organized according to international market needs. France, Britain and Holland were especially influential in the external trade of Smyrna in the eighteenth century. Before the

Napoleonic Wars (1815) France was the dominant actor in the Mediterranean trade to leave it to the British hegemony in the following years. For Goffman, these were the changes by the eighteenth century that rendered Smyrna into a colonial port.

By the eighteenth century, Izmir had a long settled European community and an established complex commercial infrastructure that functioned through Greek,

Armenian, and Jewish Ottoman intermediaries. Intermediaries were helping the

European merchants with their contacts in and around the city; furthermore, they had formed an informal banking network that functioned through money changers and moneylenders. The intermediaries who exerted a firm influence on Western

Anatolian trade were also active in the communication and diffusion of bourgeois ways of living with their particular tastes and material culture. Furthermore, these growing bourgeois ideals were seaming common patterns of culture and ideas among the trade centers of the Mediterranean and the Near East. (Kasaba, “Izmir”, 8-11)

The Turks due to their special status in the Empire had influence as tax farmers and administrators in the area1, and along with Jews they operated as custom’s officers.

Turkish merchants had contacts with Europeans either through their own broker who

1 Tımar system was abandoned gradually through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in favor of tax farming and leasing types. In the çiftlik (“farm”) agriculture that replaced it, land is private property, the “çiftlik” owner decides what to grow and the cultivation is mostly market oriented. “Çiftlik” owners are tied to private financiers to purchase tax farming contracts and to sell the produce for export. Although the lot sizes are most usually smaller than plantations, peasants work either as sharecroppers, indebted tenants or disposessed wage laborers. Due to scarcity of labor, the centralization of the land holdings in Western Anatolia did not happen. The tax farming system resulted in central government’s losing its control on agricultural production which is the largest sector of the imperial economy and the most important source of tax income. Furthermore, it led to the strengthening of “ayans” and local notables till the first decades of the nineteenth century when rebellious ayans or çiftlik owners were suppressed by the government forces and their properties were confiscated. This led to small peasant farming once more. With the Tanzimat reforms local notables were given official titles and tried to be tied to formal hierarchy of the state.

8 was “usually Jew, sometimes Armenian and rarely Greek” or through Europeans’ non-Muslim brokers. (Frangakis-Syrett, Commerce, 114- 115)

Between about 1750 and 1815 Western Anatolia got further integrated into the world economy. The groups that gained most power during this period were local notables, tax farmers, merchants and especially the money-lenders. These groups as a peripheral bourgeoisie were particularly profiting from organizational disorder and economic anarchy that was prevalent in Western Anatolia. The government’s attempts to tie them to the state structure within the scope of Tanzimat reforms were without success. Furthermore, tax revenues that the Ottoman state was gathering from the area were diminishing. (Kasaba, Ottoman)

Intermediaries who were influential as money-lenders, money-changers, purchasers of the produce in the hinterland, were also able to acquire tax-farming rights thanks to their prosperous situation. The European merchants’ aims at forming direct relations with the hinterland failed and in the end they had to rely on the local marketing networks.2 Similarly their efforts to set up a bank in Smyrna were frustrated as it was very risky and difficult to enter into long-term commercial undertakings and commitments. (Kasaba, Ottoman)

For Kasaba it was the activities of the intermediaries especially between 1815 and 1876 that led to the peripheral integration of the empire into the capitalist world economy. They earned their wealth and influence thanks to the administrative and fiscal anarchy prevailing in the empire. They hampered both the British and Ottoman attempts at fiscal reform and stability and made long-term trade and investment unattractive. (Kasaba, Ottoman) However, Kasaba also stresses that the intermediaries should not be considered solely as a destabilizing factor but that they

2 Although the 1838 trade treaty was formally opening the Ottoman inland to Europeans, they were mostly excluded from direct access to the hinterland until the end of the nineteenth century.

9 were also dominant actors and moderators of the boosting economy of western

Anatolia and they managed to dictate their conditions and interests and incapacitated both British and Ottoman attempts at centralization. (Kasaba, “İzmir”)

Although, this picture of the local economic relations and the local bourgeoisie seems more prone to a liberal, mercantilist politics in contrast to an exclusionary and nationalist one, the result turned out to be the latter one. (Kasaba,

“İzmir”, 18 and Keyder, 61)

For Kasaba, the strength of the local bourgeoisie in Western Anatolia was weakened through two significant changes. The first was the pressure of the bureaucratic centralizing power of Duyunu Umumiye (the institution for the exaction of the debts that the Ottoman state owed to the European powers) that strongly hampered the dominance of the intermediaries. The nineteenth century depression only made things worse.

The second was the process of nationalization that started to make itself felt with the Young Turks national economy policy (1908) that strongly favored a

Muslim merchant group instead of the already weakening non-Muslim actors. After the First World War, the expulsion or exchange of the Christian populations of the

Empire almost erased the long-established non-Muslim bourgeoisie along with their connections and expertise. (Kasaba, “İzmir”, 19-20)

Changes in the Urban Space

In the nineteenth century especially in the second half, the physical structure of Izmir underwent a significant change with the introduction of technologies of transportation and communication; a fine communication network was established

10 with many posts and telegraph lines, as well as railway networks connecting Izmir to western Anatolia. Although this network was greatly diminishing transport costs, it also meant a reorganization of the complex transportation and credit networks which was reacted by local resistance and resulted in renegotiations and the different utilizations of the technologies. (Tekeli, 132) The establishment of the new quay in

1870s was also carried out among fervent debates and resistance. (Zandi-Sayek,

“Struggles”, 56)

In the nineteenth century not only the economical opportunities it promised but also the starkly different and new lifestyle of the port cities made them an attraction site for the immigrants. This image of a modern city with its buildings and substructure (asphalted roads, tramway, department stores, European style hotels and cafes, gas lamp lightening at nights) and the anonymity the city provided along with its hustle and bustle were especially alluring for those coming from the hinterland.

(Keyder, 54)

Demographic Structure of the City

This two centuries long economic advancement of Izmir was accompanied by a parallel population growth. It rose from 100,000 in the eighteenth century to half a million before the First World War. (Frangakis-Syrett, “Bakış”, 89) During the seventeenth and most of eighteenth century the population of Smyrna was marked by a Muslim majority. Beginning with the end of eighteenth century this proportion was reversed and the Christians and Jews of the city had outnumbered its Muslim inhabitants till the fall of the Empire. (Neumann, 2006) Kasaba makes reference to a census held in the 1880s and points that about 60% of the city’s population was

11 composed of non-Muslims and foreigners. (Kasaba, Dünya, 106) Besides, this was the highest proportion of non-Muslims to Muslims when compared to other Ottoman cities and this was helpful in giving Smyrna the appellation “Smyrna infidel”3.

According to Kasaba in 1880 the proportion of foreigners to the population of

Smyrna rose up to %25. For Frangakis-Syrett, in the nineteenth century the number of European merchants increased. Although they were never populous, they were nevertheless helpful in giving the city its cosmopolitan culture and identity. They were an important part of the city’s business life in terms of capital, expertise and connections and were active in external trade, banking, mining, shipping, overseas insurance and carpet production. (Frangakis-Syrett, “Bakış”, 88-89)

The Structure of Levantine Society: Legal Status, Ethnicity, Confession, Language and Class

First of all, I want to give a bleak description to this intangible community for the sake of moving on and doing work with the word. Because I believe however shifting and porous the boundaries of the community at hand, it still corresponds to a peculiar situation.

Schmitt stresses that what distinguishes Levantines as a social group is their confession and European mythic or real origins. I want to move on from this loose definition and call Levantines as the Catholic or Protestant residents of Smyrna who claim descent from European ancestors. Now I want to note some aspects of community’s social composition: its linguistic, confessional tendencies, legal status,

3 For Kırlı the appellation “gavur İzmir” or “Smyrne infidel” was not due to the outnumbering of its non-Muslim population but the predominance of a cosmopolitan environment that is marked by the centrality of the Frank district and the “Franks” in city’s social and economic life which is further accentuated by the absence of Ottoman monumental imprints.

12 ethnicity and class structure before going on to a discussion of how these pieces of identities were acquired and employed to have access to existing paths or to open new ones in the cosmopolitan port city of Smyrna.

Languages

Before the nineteenth century, Italian was the language of commerce in the eastern

Mediterranean. The dominant international language of commerce and diplomacy shifted in the nineteenth century to French to last almost till the first half of twentieth century. Georgelin draws our attention to the significance of having a good command of French. It was an important cultural capital and the sign of civilization for the elites of the Empire; Muslim and non-Muslim alike.

Levantines were a polyglot community. They moved through several languages in their daily lives and sometimes during a single brief conversation.

According to Schmitt, most of the male Levantines spoke four languages Italian,

French, Greek and Turkish. However, the language they most often utilized in public printed or spoken in the last two centuries seems to be French in line with French’s supremacy as lingua franca. (Ortaylı, 27) It was not uncommon that an English or

Italian Levantine will have no knowledge of their nation’s language. On the other hand, almost all of them spoke a particular kind of Greek, especially the women in going about daily matters.

According to Maximilian Hartmuth, Schmitt relates the frequent usage of a type of Greek among the Levantines to two factors. First of all, they were extremely enmeshed in the local culture of Smyrna. Secondly, many of them had marriages with local Christians or the Hellenized Catholics of Genoese origin that had

13 emigrated from the Aegean islands. Furthermore, the Levantine elites most often employed Greek servants or nannies and this seems to be the case both in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. (Beyru, “Sosyal”, 160 and Böke, İzmir

“Felaketi”ne Dair, 142) On the other hand, both the French and the Greek languages that the Levantines spoke were different from metropolitan French4 or “Hellenic”

Greek5. Still, as Rocca emphasizes, the well educated were no less capable of writing and speaking in metropolitan French. They shifted to this orthodox use in formal matters or in socializing with a new-comer who is unused to this ‘dialect’.

Juridical Status

Most of the Levantines, Catholic or Protestant, were under the protection of a

European country which placed them at a particular situation. While the other non-

Muslim millets of the Empire who were represented by their religious leaders in their stately matters (till the secularization reforms of the Empire in the nineteenth century), Levantines as foreign subjects were represented by their consulates in their relations with the central government. They were not subject to the laws of the

Empire but to that of their respective nations. Only a small group of Catholic

Levantines were subjects of the Sultan and they don’t have a proper representation in the Ottoman system till the 1840s when the Latin or Catholic Milleti (“nation” or religious community) is recognized by the Sultan as an autonomous community.

(Schmitt, 108)

4 For the particular version of French that the Levantines spoke which is indebted to Greek and Turkish see Rocca.

5 Schmitt calls this version of Greek as Frankochiotika, “a variety of Demotike Greek written in Latin using Italian spelling rules and expressions” and considers it as “the rudiments of a genuine Levantine language” as Malte Fuhrmann notes.

14 First, the 1673 capitulation treaties gave France the right to recruit dragomans or translators from the local Latin Catholics of the Empire. (Marmara,

60) These dragomans would enjoy the same status with foreigners. They would be exempt from the head tax and some customs duties. As foreigners they would be represented by their consul and be under the laws of the state they are protected by.

Later on this right to have dragomans or protégés was extended to other states with which capitulation agreements were concluded. However, this system of capitulations and berats (exemption rights) were extremely misused. The consulates began to distribute or sell these berats and took under their protection foreigners from other nations or local Ottoman subjects. Although both the Ottoman state and the nations benefiting from the capitulations tried to prevent it, its abuse accelerated all the more in the nineteenth century. Marmara notes that in 1860, the number of

Ottoman subjects who had obtained the citizenship or protection of a foreign nation exceeded the number of foreigners living in Ottoman lands. (Marmara, 60-61) The extension of the capitulation system put the Ottoman subjects at a disadvantaged position vis-à-vis the subjects who are under the protection of some other nation.6

On the other hand, Smyrnelis points that Europeans’ juridical privileges also contained strong restrictions prohibiting them to travel or trade in the hinterland of big cities till 1848 and to live in certain separate sections of the city. Furthermore they were prohibited to own land. I have explained above how the restrictions of travel and trade to the inner parts of Anatolia, led to the creation of a strong class of intermediaries mostly composed of local non-Muslims whose power was hard to shake even after this restriction was removed. Besides making Levantine merchants

6 This difference of status even seems to show itself between the Greek Ottoman inhabitants of Smyrne and the subjects of the Greek nation with whom the Empire had signed treaties akin to capitulations at the end of the nineteenth century. (Neumann, 73)

15 dependent upon these local actors, this restriction seems to have another effect; that of confining the Levantines to big cities and strongly marking them with an urban character.7

Class

Schmitt, by making an inquiry about the social and ethnic composition of the followers of the two Catholic churches of Smyrna, namely Saint-Polycarpe and

Saint-Mary informs us about the diverse composition of the society of Catholics of the city in the nineteenth century. Among them, the Oriental Catholics seems to be a more heterogeneous group. Here we can find the descendents of the Genoese and

Venetian families installed in the Aegean basin who has been strongly Grecified.

These grecophone Catholics are most usually poor mariners, laborers, domestics, or small-scale artisans, although there are among them who achieved to integrate to the elites of the Levantine society. Although they had been subjects of the Sultan for many years, they gained the citizenship or protection of European nations because they were Catholics. For Schmitt, in this respect confession is a strong symbolic capital for the Levantines. However, he also emphasizes that obtaining European passports doesn’t get one automatically to the ranks of the elite. He explains that in the church of Saint-Mary out of the 670 registered Europeans only nine of them are big merchants and four of them retailers. On the other hand, among the oriental

Catholics there is a high proportion of poverty; among the 961 fidels 246 are registered to be poor. They are laborers, journalists, small-scale artisans and persons without a proper job. Although in the nineteenth century the Levantine merchants are

7 In 1889 there were 55,467 foreigners in the Western Anatolian region and 50,000 among them were living in Smyrna. Kasaba (“İzmir”, 12) quotes from Cuinet, Vital, (1892), “La Turqui d’Asie, Géographie Administrative Statistique Descriptive et Raisonnée de Chaque Province de L’Asie Mineur”, III. Paris: E. Leroux

16 rivaled by Greeks and Armenians they were nevertheless dominant in the city’s trade and they were mostly the ones to have introduced proto-industrial methods of production to Smyrna. These modest attempts at industrialization drew thousands of immigrants from Italy and contribute to the formation of an Italian labor class who inhabited the north neighborhood of the city, Punta (the Point). This adds to the already apparent diversity of the Levantine society.

Schmitt also emphasizes the loose boundaries between confessional rites. He points that especially with the beginning of the twentieth century; the Levantines make “mixed” marriages despite ecclesiastical protests. Catholicism or Protestantism like nationality is not exercised strictly conventionally but rather more loosely by taking to the fore the social and economic advantages the marriage promises.

This inquiry shows us that it is misleading to consider the Levantine society as composed of solely merchants, although international commerce is what marks both the character of the city and the Levantine community. As a result, it seems that the Levantine community had been actually quiet diversified and dynamic in terms of class, ethnicity (or origins), and confession.

Levantine Community?

Edhem Eldem on his article about the history of the word “Levantine” points to the extremely ambiguous, miscellaneous, and changing meaning of the word, that it is impossible to stabilize and exhaust its meaning.

As he explains the word Levantine has been used to refer to various groups which may sometimes overlap. It might be used to denote Latins, the Roman

Catholics settled in the east. However, the eastern Catholic communities are set apart

17 from them. Some consider them as the descendents of Magnifica Communità di

Pera, the Venetian and Genoese some of whom settled in the Aegean islands and formed states there after the occupation of Istanbul in 1453. They may be related to the groups which have come and settled in the eastern Mediterranean lands with the

Crusades. They can be considered as European merchants whose coming is directly related to Mediterranean trade. They may be considered as the berat holders whose origins are extremely varied. So the community described might entail different groups of people through a very long time span, of whose self perceptions we know little if not nothing.

As he points, this much loaded word involves the view of the definer/user towards the alleged community, as the context and the position of the users change so does its meaning. First and foremost, the extraneous quality of the word reveals itself in its Euro-centeredness. “Levant” meaning “the east” is surely the east of

“Europe”.

He stresses that the word “Levantine” was most prevalently used at the end of nineteenth and beginning of twentieth centuries, and that even then the groups and persons who were said to be Levantine would not call themselves as such, they would most probably reject this expression and consider it almost as an insult.

Similarly, Hartmuth draws our attention to Schmitt’s watchful attitude towards the word. He recounts that Schmitt points that the Levantines as an imagined community might only have been imagined by outsiders as comprising a community.

18 Levantines as Discomforting Strangers in European Travel Writing

Besides the extraneous quality of the word, why it was not preferred for the self- expression of a community can be due to the derogatory tones it has acquired throughout history. European travelers are one of the main severe critics of the

Levantines.

To give some examples, Fellows (1838-1840), points that the Levantines he had come across in Smyrna had peculiar traditions but that these were far less refined when compared with the level of culture of traders in England. He also criticizes

Levantines’ over-indulgence in trade and pure materialistic gains. (Pınar,

Gezginlerin, 61) Similarly R. R. Madden on his 1925 (Beyru, Yaşam, 59) correspondence writes that the Levantine traders of Smyrna are unable to show any interest in matters other than trade, that whatever is being discussed in the end comes to the subject of “figs”. Michaud in his 1830-31 (Beyru, Yaşam, 48) notes of his travel, claims that although the Levantines are fast at adapting European style leisure and fashion they don’t show the same aptness in following art and literature movements of their times. They are considered as usually shallow in matters of art and culture.

Schmitt according to Fuhrmann relates the debasing attitude of European travelers to their inability to classify the Levantines who actually neither fitted to their notion of “Orientals” nor to “Europeans” as they know it. The peculiar traditions that Fellows mentions should be related to indeed the “peculiar” traditions of the Levantines which were starkly marked by a reworking of their locality. Beyru on his inquiry in the nineteenth century social life of Smyrna stresses this issue that communities actually had many common habits and traditions one of which was the

19 way guests were served. (Beyru, 1992, “Sosyal”, 149) Levantines as natives of

Smyrna were both one of the producers of this urban culture and knew how to work in its intricacies and gain their livelihood from it. This was quiet different from the position of a newcomer in whose untrained eyes the bustling city should be the image of chaos. Furthermore Levantines with their local knowledge had superiority over the newly arriving Europeans who had difficulty in competing with them. In this respect it seems no coincidence that a certain extremely mixed, incongruous people of Smyrna who inhabit the “east” but claim to be “westerner”, doesn’t fit the image of the “west” with their peculiar local traditions but who neither look like the

“exotic” easterners become a source of uneasiness that seems to have contributed to a discourse that is wrought with the particular orientalizm of the era.

According to Eldem, this discourse on the dubious character of Levantines that was mostly contributed by European travelers begins to show itself about the end of eighteenth century. According to Pınar, these attempts to define Levantines and the discussions around the word reach its peak towards the end of the nineteenth century.

The dates are significant as they correspond to cultural and social life of modernity that Bauman8 tries to depict especially concentrating on its order imposing features. The eighteenth century appears as the Age of Enlightenment and the nineteenth century appears as the age of the ever more powerful sway of the industrial and capitalist growth with its imperial domination in the international scene9.

8 What Bauman means with “modernity” he makes clear as “a historical period that began in Western Europe with a series of profound social structural and intellectual transformations of the seventeenth century and achieved its maturity: 1) as a cultural project – with the growth of the Enlightenment; 2) as a socially accomplished form of life – with the growth of industrial (capitalist, and later also communist) society.” (4)

20 For Bauman order is modernity’s primary obsession that underlies its actions, desires with an unstoppable drive forward. Order that is forced upon the world aims at getting rid of undefinability, incoherence, ambivalence, confusion, obscurity along with polysemy, overdefinition, overlapping meanings which don’t fit into precise classifications, neatly separated and guarded boxes.

Bauman writes: “If modernity is about the production of order then ambivalence is the waste of modernity.” (15) The things that don’t fit into present categories need a further attempt at the creation of new categories which will inevitably leave out what it cannot contain. The complexity of life dooms the order imposing projects of modernity. However, the tragedy is not in the failed attempts but in their ingrained self-perpetuality. Every emanation of the waste of chaos calls for more violence to impose order. Intolerance is “the natural inclination of modern practice” (Bauman, 8). Intolerance is aimed at the things that resist being assimilated into a knowledgeable category.

The so-called Levantines who defy easy attempts at classification become a target for the restless modern minds. However, in accordance with Bauman’s point on the self-perpetuating character of order imposition, the writers do not contend themselves at describing the “lacks”, “extravagancies” or “anomalies” of the people they came across but try to reclassify them under the banner “the standard

Levantine”. However, this also seems to prove futile as Bauman would expect it.

Levantines defying neat categories between the east and the west, the European and the Ottoman, Italian-French-English and not Italian-French-English, between home

9 The end of nineteenth century was also marked by the social scientific theories of race and Darwinian evolutionism. An extreme importance was being accorded to the importance of racial purity and the dangers of miscegenation. As Hobsbawn notes, between 1870 and 1920 ethnicity and language becomes the main criteria of nationhood which is itself a product of the quest for order that Bauman draws our attention to.

21 and away cause contempt. The ingraspability of the phenomenon leads to the further proliferation of the discourse as is apparent in the below quotations.

Francis Hervé (Beyru, Yaşam, 71) in his book points that in Smyrna it doesn’t matter from which European nation the person comes in the end all of these

Europeans blend into a bleak standard Levantine personality. And the traits of this personality are not so praiseworthy, the standard Levantine is opportunistic, doesn’t miss any chance to barter or speculate with anyone’s money, and almost prone to fraudulence. Unlike his Europeans counterparts the Levantine trader is lazy and loves extravagance. Although he knows many languages, he is not competent in either one of them. A superficiality of taste and culture reigns among this strata. Besides the

Levantine trader typology, Levantine women are not ignored as Raynaud elaborates on their moral laxity. (Beyru, Yaşam, 70)

The supposed uniformity of Levantine culture and character is an issue that is again stressed by the monthly Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine. It is written that

“people coming from different parts of Europe get mixed and could guard barely a few of the original traits of their races due to the influence of the climate and shared interests. They soon acquire a standard character. Even their facial expressions carry the imprints of Ionia’s mild impression” (my Trans.). However, it is added that considering the Levantine women living in these lands where poetry was born these facts only add to their beauty. Similarly Countess Pauline Nostitz depicts the

Levantines she calls “Franks” as a community that has partly kept their race and partly mixed with Eastern Christian minorities. She adds that although they love boasting about their Europeanness, it is only visible in the frock coats they wear.

(Pınar, Gezginlerin, 40) Pınar recounts that in the 1920s Dr. Julius Rud Kaim wrote a book called “Geist des Morgenlandes” (The mentality of the East) where the issue of

22 Levantines is broadly discussed. Here he mentions the mixed descent of the

Levantines and claims that a standard peculiar type of person is created through this miscegenation. He claims that the Levantines have lost their bonds with their motherlands and got stuck and isolated in the east. Their culture and habits lag from the years before the east was conquered by the Turks and that it can have nothing to do with Europeanness. They are superficial, and ignorant about high art or philosophy. They have neither questions nor worries. (Pınar, “Levant”, 38)

As I have tried to show the complaint about Levantines’ mixed origins, peculiar language, customs and superficial Europeanness resonate with what Bauman calls modernity’s obsession with order. The Levantines reflect the horror of mixing, the mixing of what was neatly separated into dichotomies which make up the central frame of modern intellect and practice for Bauman. Dichotomies are imbued with power; however they also are capable of disguising the power relations that bind the two sides of the dichotomy to each other by creating an illusion of symmetry. As

Bauman puts it “the second member is the other of the first, the opposite (degraded, suppressed, exiled) side of the first and its creation.” Thus the west/east, civilization/barbarity, native/stranger, friend/enemy, home/away are all imbued with the coercive power of the first to isolate its degraded part from itself. It is true that dichotomies do not hold but as long as one can pretend that they do, their perpetuation will be secured. The group of people called the Levantines inevitably exposes the intangibility of the master oppositions of inside and outside, here and there, east and west and even past and present with their presence.

23 Tensions on the Urban Space: the Loosening of Communitarian Boundaries, Imperial Harmonization and the Rise of Nationalisms

Although the neighborhoods throughout the Empire seem to be differentiated on communal lines, these were not strict differentiations and in many cases the basis of differentiation also included many other factors such as economic status for the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It was hard to find clearly differentiated and clustered communal residential quarters in any part of the Empire. (Quataert, 257-

258)

In the nineteenth century, the city was composed of Turkish, Armenian,

Greek, Jewish and Frank quarters. Especially proliferating in the nineteenth century the respective communities had their own institutions such as churches, schools, hospitals, charities as well as social clubs which were mostly not exclusive.

Similarly, in Smyrna, the second part of nineteenth century was marked by the loosening of common segregation pattern on ethnic and confessional lines for all the neighborhoods: Greek, Armenian, Muslim or Jewish. Similarly, the Frank quarter came to be the residence of European and non-European elites of the city.

Furthermore, many foreigners of modest means began to settle outside the Frank quarter as Smyrnelis explains.

During the nineteenth century, the elites of the city socialize in the clubs.

Especially the European clubs bring together the notables of different communities.

By 1935, the first non-European visitors were admitted to the most prestigious club of the city called Cercle Européen or the European Casino. (Beyru, Yaşam, 121)

What is more interesting, clubs reserved for the elites of the Greek, Armenian and

Jewish communities were founded on the model of the Cercle Européen in the nineteenth century. It is significant that the loosening of communitarian segregation

24 in the most prestigious club of the city corresponds with the establishment of its national counterparts.

Some philanthropic committees and Masonic lodges were also among the institutions that were bringing together the diverse elites of the city. The various sports competitions such as horse racing, sailing, swimming were also the attraction sites that brought together the heterogeneous population of the city. (Neumann, 60)

The opening of the new quay and the two boulevards parallel to it finished in 1875 became a center of entertainment as well as housing businesses and consulates, along the quay hotels, cafes, restaurants, theatres and later the sporting club and the cinemas were lined. This new city space also permitted new forms of sociation.

Many authors stress the extreme visibility the multi-cultural coexistence of the city acquired in the nineteenth century. This visibility of the communities and their conscious investment on the city space was a way for them to assert their wealth and presence both in a sort of rivalry to each other and also to the ever-present

Western visitors. It had been common for the festivities on special days such as the

Christmas, the Orthodox Easter or Purim to overreach their formal celebration indoors among its particular community to the streets and include the participation of the plural population of Smyrna. However, their public celebration with ordered parades that included official participation was a starkly new phenomenon that owed its realization partly to the Tanzimat reforms.

The Tanzimat reforms (starting with 1839) by granting equal citizenship to the subjects of the Empire were trying to draw the allegiance of the heterogeneous national and religious communities of the Empire. However, as Zandi-Sayek points, there was an inherent conflict in the Tanzimat reforms that curtailed their sway.

Tanzimat reforms were aimed at creating the unified political allegiance of the

25 subjects of the Empire regardless of their ethnic or religious backgrounds at a time when nationalistic tendencies began to be more strongly felt among the local communities of the Empire.

According to Zandi-Sayek, this tension was also apparent in the way the various celebrations were publicly held in Smyrna’s city space after the 1840s. The

Imperial events such as Sultan’s birthdays or accessions to the throne were drawing many people from diverse sections of city to the city center. The official buildings and residences of notables and merchants of all communities were being decorated and lit and the warships were firing salutes periodically through the day, from the harbor and the citadel. After the 1860s, the renovation of the governor’s palace with the esplanade before it that gave way to the new quay, allowed a new sort of visible open space (in contrast to the former “opaque” city space10) where ceremonies symbolizing state power could be staged. These ceremonies included visits paid to the governor in praise of the Sultan by the heads of the communities and representatives from their institutions. Zandi-Sayek interprets these imperial celebrations and their temporally marking of the city space with imperial insignia as an attempt to stage a unified imperial population in a unified imperial space which reflects the government’s aim to tie the heterogeneous communities under a unified political identity. In this respect, the Tanzimat reforms reflected universalistic, cosmopolitan leanings that had gained prominence in the Ottoman state.

On the other hand, Orthodox Easter, Purim or Carnival as well as various

Saints’ days were occasions for the local communities’ willingness to state their religious and national differences through temporary appropriation of the city

10 Kırlı notes “...both parts of the commercial district and even its residential areas showed a uniform pattern; İzmir was a closed city marked by narrow streets, crooked alleys, covered ferhanes, bedestens, hans, and narrow streets well sheltered by the buildings. Social and economic activities were enveloped in these spaces.” (68)

26 space.11 However, these events were also occasions when the heightened realization of frequently overlapping communal boundaries gave way to social tension resulting in the temporary othering of certain communities and their exclusion from parts of the city.12

On the other hand, Zandi-Sayek considers the temporary usurpation of certain parts of the city to charge them with diverse and sometimes conflicting social and political meanings as an attempt to negotiate the newly configuring relations both between the Empire and its communities, and among different communities. This is also the time when with the secularization reforms, there began to be elected community councils mostly populated by the bourgeoisie instead of the traditional religious representatives which means that among the communities themselves relations were at a time of negotiation.

Zandi-Sayek’s inquiry into the ways the city space of Tanzimat Smyrna were mobilized for celebrations is especially significant as it illuminates overlapping solidarities that was also negotiated through space appropriation. In the face of the shattering Ottoman communal structures, the Tanzimat reforms were attempts at the formation of a new form of community imagination. In this respect, especially the second half of the nineteenth century can be considered as a liminal period where multiple forms of belonging coexisted. As Fuhrmann aptly puts it:

11 The 1842 Corpus Christi Procession was one of the first religious events celebrated publicly through the streets with official participation of the archbishop, a Turkish guard of honor and the French consul (as the representative of Catholic nations). The presence of a Turkish squad was sign of the promise that the Ottoman government was willing to support the free practice of the religions of their equal citizens. The itinerary of the parade passed through the Frank street which was the commercial center of the city which during daytime brought together people from diverse ethnic, religious, linguistic or class backgrounds. With selective stops at certain institutions, and by its decor and mis-en-scène the procession was symbolically designating the place as exclusively Catholic. 12 Zandi-Sayek gives the example of Orthodox Easter when hostility towards the Jewish community arises periodically each year. At this time of the year, it was advised that the Jews avoid the Greek quarters to guard themselves from possible harassment that had occurred occasionally. (“Orchestrating”, 62)

27 The dividing line between social practices inspired by nationalism and those inspired by cosmopolitanism does not reveal two neatly separated camps. Instead, the actions of individuals often followed both of these seemingly contradictory modes of social intercourse. Decisions on which of these modes should be followed were often made on a day to day basis. (…) Many residents of Ottoman cities did not feel there was something wrong with praising foreign monarchs one minute and amicably socializing with other local residents the next. (Fuhrmann, “Cosmopolitan”)

However, at the close of the century, the nationalisms inside and outside the Empire was becoming ever more demanding threatening this fragile coexistence of solidarities.

End of Nineteenth Century: Cosmopolitanism and its Demise

Europeanness as a Privileged Status

As I have explained above the berat system had been misused from the beginning of its appearance, however, throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, more and more people, especially minority traders began to benefit from the protection or citizenship of European Countries. This meant that other sections of the society were moving to this privileged status which used to be dominated mostly by the Catholic

Levantines. So it is not surprising that European merchants’ disdainful attitude towards the minorities were especially targeted to the population of bearers of berat among them, as Eldem notes. It was a time when more sections of the minorities began to be educated in French schools, made their surnames sound like Italian or

French and devised suspicious genealogies reaching Europe. (Eldem, 21) For

European merchants, local non-Muslim berat holders’ Europeanness was considered as fraud and superficial, and untrustworthy. Eldem explains that these traders were accused of an opportunism that they wear a “hat” (as a sign of Europeanness) only because this best suits to their interests at the moment, and that they can easily take it

28 off and apply to an Ottoman court if this stops serving their best interests.13 (Eldem,

18-19) As Eldem points, the “European” merchants and travelers were trying to secure the boundaries against the ones who were thought to be trying to resemble them, by accusing them of being a cheap copy of an “original”. He also stresses the economic rivalry between “European” merchants and local Christians. It seems that they were afraid to lose their privileged status as it came to be shared by more and more sections of the society.

This extremely fluid and plural structure where one can move through or hold several nationalities were causing uneasiness not only for the European merchants but especially for the groups whose status were being undermined. Although I have to differentiate from time to time between Europeans and Levantines, to say who is a

European or Levantine is all the more difficult in this context14 and the separation is sometimes artificial. It is also important to remember, as Georgelin stresses, that the

“levant” or “east” is negatively connoted for all the groups and being a European means being part of the “civilized” world. Besides, having mixed origins was also not something exalting, it was to be disavowed in a period of rising nationalisms, especially when the norm to look up to was the industrialized European nations who claimed to be homogeneous unities.

13 Actually Quartaert explains that it was not very uncommon for a non-Muslim to apply to a “Şer’i” court and once the application was done the verdicts of the Islamic courts had a primacy over the other courts’ (till the Tanzimat reforms). For example, non-Muslim widowed women were occasionally applying to the Şer’i courts in order to get a better share of the inheritance as the Islamic law secures a better portion to the widow than the churches’. (Quataert, 254-255)

14 Eldem explains that the word “Levantine” from the eighteenth century till the end of nineteenth was used to define all the inhabitants of the eastern Mediterranean, Middle East or Near East. Towards the end of the nineteenth century the word was defined as “the Franks born in the Ottoman Lands” (the 1880 dictionary of Redhouse). (Eldem, 13-15) Similarly, Pınar by examining the writings of European traveler explains that the word “Levantine” form the second half of the nineteenth century starts to include the Europeans who are mixed with the Christian minorities of the Empire. (35)

29 As a result, it seems that the ones who were more equipped in terms of cultural, symbolic and economic capital were in a position to assert Europeanness. In this respect, besides other means, material culture in accordance with the ever diffusing bourgeois ways of living is a valuable tool to claim and showcase

Europeanness.

“The Play with Identities”

“The play with identities”, as Smyrnelis and Schmitt calls it, needs a deep local knowledge of “networks of relations” that one can enter by taking up or giving up certain statuses both official and unofficial in order to be effectuated. Moving through different systems of statuses comprises both opportunities, and, restrictions and obligations.

Especially for the more modest Europeans who found themselves on the borders of this predominantly merchant colony marrying with local Christians provided them with a limited permanence (as their time of stay in the Ottoman lands were restricted till the mid nineteenth century) and the immersion into new bonds of solidarity and opportunity. So for example, an Italian of modest origins might marry a local Greek woman and inhabit the Greek neighborhood. Ignoring his Italian origins and being Grecified might mean access to a certain job or guild that was to a degree patterned on community lines. Identity in this plural environment entails the choice, ignorance or claim of different sorts of belonging. As is clear, participation in the “community of interests” through a play of identities was not restricted to the elite of the city but to most of the individuals and families who are a part of Smyrna society and have a local knowledge of it. They move through these networks of

30 relations with limited or abundant means. (Smyrnelis, 9) However, the fact that, certain communities were granted with more abundant means actually mattered greatly. This was apparent in the deterioration of relations between the communities in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The ever strengthening of the “foreigners” and the non-Muslims of the Empire in places where international capital had changed the local economic structure was causing bitterness in the Muslims who were relegated to the margins of this system.

Cosmopolitanism and the “Community of Interests”

Mediterranean port cities at the end of nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth have been considered as exceptional grounds for the flourishing of cosmopolitanism.

Kırlı formulates cosmopolitanism as a spatial phenomenon. What makes a city cosmopolitan is its capacity to work as a ‘nodal point’ in the circulation of persons, goods and capital within a certain world economic structure. She considers Smyrna as such a locale of intensified relations in the Mediterranean economy.

What enabled Smyrna’s functioning as a cosmopolitan city of intensified and complex relations can be partially explained by its relative distance from the capital.

For Kasaba, Smyrna had always been loosely connected to Istanbul. Although it was responsible for the provisioning of Istanbul, it was bureaucratically less restrained by the Capital. Accordingly, Smyrna found the opportunity to form relations with the surrounding islands and the rest of Mediterranean drawing ever more migrants from the area. (Kasaba, 1994, “İzmir”, 3-4) It is this relatively autonomous political

31 position and diverse demographic structure that were helpful in rendering Smyrna a cosmopolitan port city.

This relative autonomy was also beneficial for the strengthening of its colony of merchants and their predominance in city’s social and economic life. I have already mentioned how tactful these “foreign” merchants and intermediaries were in asserting their interests through a delicate management of political, bureaucratic and judicial systems defying both the Empire’s and European Powers’ attempts at control and centralization. 15

For Kırlı, the expertise and connections of a plural urban society prepares the ground for cosmopolitanism but it is their deep understanding of and involvement in the local workings of the city that bestows its inhabitants with ties that reach beyond the city to the larger world. This is what she calls a contradiction embedded in the

‘cosmopolitan’ that shows itself through the interaction of the ‘cosmos’ and the

‘polis’ or the ‘global’ and the ‘local’. Cosmopolitanism because of its space- boundedness inheres both a certain universalism with its links to the world and a certain parochialism with its embeddedness it the particular city. The peculiar autonomy of Smyrna was maybe most contributing in the creation of a ‘community of interests’ in this plural environment. The ‘community of interests’ that the multi- confessional, multi-ethnic society of Smyrna created was able to survive as long as it responded to the particular needs of this ‘cosmopolitan locale’. Accordingly,

Fuhrmann relates the disruption of the cosmopolitanism of Ottoman port cities to

“the rise of nationalism both in the form of imperialist expansionism as well as in its

15 Similarly, Ilbert considers Alexandria as a “geopolitical accident” that is endorsed with a certain autonomy and immunity. When the rest of Europe and Middle East were going through atrocious transformations, Alexandria was able to function as a refuge for the migrants from shattering political structures. The municipal council founded in 1890 was the epitome and proof of the autonomy of this plural society whose notables were able come under a “community of interests” for the management of Alexandria’s urban life and affairs despite the apparent European objection.

32 nativist forms”. The rise of nationalism meant an end to local autonomy as then the decisions concerning the workings and fate of cities were taken from London, Berlin,

Athens, Istanbul, Ankara etc. Nationalism also meant that the ‘community of interests’ of a locale would be suppressed under a ‘community of common identity’ imposed over comprehensive geographies.

The bonds of solidarity in a cosmopolitan community are mainly formed by the association of strangers around common ends. In this respect, the question of who the participant is, is less important as long as he knows the rules of the game. This is what Sennet calls ‘civility’ or the depersonalization of public relations where people wear several masks and play with them without getting burdened with questions like if the other person is Christian or Jew, Greek or Turk, black or white etc. He, in the same way, knows that these masks are just masks and has nothing to do with who he

“really” is. An indifference to authenticity of selfhood, and the temporary suspension of emotions and impulses in the public domain are the conditions to this ‘civility’ which permits interactions with strangers.

The ‘community of common interests’ is starkly different from the way the

‘community common identity’ of the nation. The community of the nation is imagined by assuming that the people of the nation share common traits, common habits, traditions, and common desires. The ones who betray these expectations are condemned as suspicious, as being betrayers/internal enemies or strangers. In this respect the collective self of the nation is ever under threat as even a single person embodies conflicting desires and is the inheritor of heterogeneous traditions. It is only through a semi-conscious suppression and disavowal of the misfittings that the person can continue to imagine herself/himself as coherent.

33 Accordingly, the national community tends to be marked by unsustainable borders which need to be more fervently guarded every time the collective self of the nation is revealed heterogeneous, inessential or ungraspable. Others are accused of spoiling the collective personality, when the inquisition for an authentic collective self slips away drawing the community away from a full mirroring effect. The size of the community begins to ever shrink, as there begins a condemnation and othering of the ones who are different in terms of class, politics, style, faith etc.

Consequently, most generally, the cosmopolitan milieus are marked by a more open and inclusive participation when compared with its nationalist counterparts.

The “Modern” City as the Context of Cosmopolitanism

The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries witnessed the growing of cities and the rise of the bourgeoisie in Europe. For Sennet, the new terms of being in public was closely related to the phenomenon of modern urban cities and to the novel ways of social interaction that has been shaped there. Cosmopolitan environments were the epitomes of the exchange between strangers, which also characterize the industrial capitals furnished with urban amenities that bring together wide sections of the society creating unprecedented possibilities of public interaction.

As I have mentioned above, the end of nineteenth century Smyrna’s urban space was similarly characterized by a modern urban lifestyle with its hotels, restaurants, cafes, stores that showcase the latest fashion from Paris, theatres and concert halls. Furthermore, the new quay, asphalted roads, tramline, gas lightening

34 were furnishing the city with a recent spatial openness. Forms of sociation that permitted anonymity and interaction with strangers were gaining a further dimension.

Actually interaction with the strangers was the norm in the Empire composed of “millets” whose formation dates back to the fifteenth century. These communities had always maintained dense contacts and resided in overlapping spaces. However, certain codes such as the dressing codes were utilized to maintain and display the borders between these religious communities. The dress codes elaborated for each community were also instrumental in providing them with heightened sense of identity. (Quataert, 251-254) However, the co-existence of “millets” or confessional communities in a place doesn’t mean that there is actually a mixing between these communities. The port cities were differentiated from the rest of the Empire in terms of communal relations. While the relations between the communities tended to be more codified especially in the inland Empire, the port cities were witnessing the lowering of communal boundaries and the flourishing of new ways of interaction at the end of the nineteenth century. (Keyder, 59) When the relations between communities are codified then there is no place for anonymity, one can immediately recognize to which group the person belongs. We need the lowering of communal boundaries and a peculiar urban geography equipped with modern facilities that can bring diverse together people who are bereft of signs that will render them discernable.

On the other hand, Sennet points to the importance of material culture produced through mass production and especially the mass production of clothes.

These mass produced clothes were imposing certain uniformity on the appearance of strangers and rendering them unfathomable. In this respect, it is also important not to look down on the effects of a material culture that is imported from the western

35 industrial centers. The coming together of the elites of the city in certain places such as the clubs, cafes also meant the adoption of a universal bourgeois culture (that included not only codes of dress but also bodily comportment, forms of speech) whose successful deployment required a certain material and cultural capital reserved for the elites.16

In this respect, it is not surprising that the places cited as epitomes of cosmopolitan culture of “community of interests” where the diverse elites came together were places like the municipal council, European clubs, and philanthropic organizations.

On the other hand, Smyrnelis points that the participation in the community of interests was not restricted to the elites of the city, the lower sections of society were also becoming a part of this cosmopolitan culture through a play of identities.

Besides, trade unions in the last decades of the Empire were established especially in places where foreign capital had a strong impact such as Salonika, Beirut, and

Smyrna. These organizations most of the time had heterogeneous membership. This means that the diverse labor class of Smyrna was also able to create a community of interests regardless of ethnicity, nation or religion. (Quataert, 263)

How the different sections of the urban population affected and were affected by the emerging cosmopolitanism, how this was interpreted by them, what sorts of tensions and conflicts were coming to the fore are intriguing question that are beyond the scope of this thesis.

16 Kırlı points to Ackbar Abbas’s warning that most often cosmopolitan culture is a euphemism for “First World” culture. (4)

36 Being a Stranger in the Cosmopolitan City of Smyrna

The play with identities seems to be the rule and not the exception in the cosmopolite port city of Smyrna. But among these various sorts of play, the play, the group of people we call the Levantines plays, is dependent upon a claim of having European origins and inhabiting the “Levant” at the same time. Levantines derive their power and status through asserting a strangeness; claiming that they have origins outside the place they are inhabiting; however far back in history, or however unsustainable the claims might be. In this respect, the Levantines can be considered as an example of

“the stranger” that Simmel conceptualizes.

Simmel conceptualizes the stranger through a spatial thinking. The stranger, although a “potential wanderer”, is fixed in a group that has spatial boundaries.

However, he doesn’t belong to this group with ‘authentic’ ties as the other members who supposedly do. The stranger does not share the group’s origin. The stranger is, in fact related to the group that he is in the midst of, but also disowned by it. The strangeness that Simmel elaborates is a particular kind of strangeness. 17 A contradiction is embedded in the relation of the stranger to the group. Although a member of the group, he is also at the same time near and far, inside and outside this group. As Simmel puts it, “... he, who is close by, is far ...” (Simmel, “The Stranger”,

402) He brings into the group a sort of alienness, things that refer to alien origins.

For Simmel, the trader is the stranger in the history of economics. He brings into the group products, that are not produced in the group, and that cannot originate from the self-sufficient, closed economy of the group. The trader not involved in the primary production of this economy is like a supplement superimposed. For him a

17 This is different from another kind of strangeness that Simmel also mentions referring to the relation of Greeks to Barbarians where even the commonness of humanity between the group (self) and the stranger (other) is denied, which he calls a “non-relation”.

37 typical example of this strangerhood is the history of European Jews. He again explains their situation in spatial terms: “The stranger is by nature no ‘owner of soil’

– soil not only in the physical, but also in the figurative sense of a life-substance which is fixed, if not in a point in space, at least in an ideal point of the physical environment.” (403)

Similarly, the Levantines as a merchant group, although an integral and long- standing figure in Smyrna’s history, have been strangers to the lands they inhabit.

They were similarly “no owner of soil” in the physical and figurative sense which is proved by the fact that till 1867, they were not allowed to own estates in the Empire.

On the other hand, as traders they were responsible for the introduction of not only an alien material culture but also alien lifestyles, ways of thinking and acting.

However, unlike the European Jews, they were themselves choosing to be strangers in order to benefit from the privileged status of the stranger in the Empire.18

Moreover, they were not only strangers to the lands they inhabit but also strangers to their supposed land of origins. For Schmitt this particular situation of moving through and bartering with the two political and social systems (that of the Ottoman and the European country of citizenship/protection) but avoiding definitive definitions through a play of identities characterizes Levantines. They both had a strong will to live in Ottoman lands and be exempt from its social, political, and juridical demands.19 They both wanted to be European citizens but showed not

18 However, it is also necessary to remember that this strangeness is infused with power relations and had worked as long as backed by the Grand Nations or Empires which must be, for instance, different from the strangeness of Gypsies who lack similar patrons.

19 Goffman explains that frictions occurring between Ottoman tax farmers and European merchants about the special status of Levantine merchants were common. As foreigners, they were exempt from paying the head tax (cizye) yet the Ottoman officials considered them as subject people as they were settled there for a long time and had frequent marriages to local non-Muslims. However, for the European merchants these were attacks to their status and privileges.

38 enough interest in being good citizens such as learning the language of their nation20, making investments in their country of origin21 or other requirements22.

The Levantines as strangers had been an integral part of Ottoman society.

They were actually a product of the plural political structure of the Empire. In this respect, the Levantines who were most usually foreigners or protégés comprised a community whose movement and settlement in the Empire was governed by certain strict norms, as I have explained above. We can say that till the nineteenth century, there was a determination to guard the borders of this community on the part of the

Ottoman state, the patron states and the community itself. In this respect, Levantines as strangers were not anonymous strangers whose image defied attempts at fathoming their sort. They had their place delineated in the urban space of Smyrna, although this space was allocated to the ones who didn’t belong. I have mentioned above how the shattering of the communal order of the Empire was attempted to be redressed by the Tanzimat reforms with the will to create a new communal order through the imagined community of the Empire whose subjects were now legislated to be equal citizens.

The strangehood of the Levantines referred to different orders and imaginings when considered at different times and different contexts of the Empire. I have tried

20 As Schmitt notes at the beginning of the twentieth century the Italian consulate complains that about 33% of the colony does not understand Italian at all, 42.5% barely understand and use it and only 25% of the Italian citizens in Smyrne have a good conduct of “the language of Dante”. (116)

21 As Marmara notes in the eighteenth century Louis XV issued a decree for curtailing the time of stay of the merchants doing business in the Ottoman lands as trade benefits were diminishing as a result of French merchants’ definitive stay in eastern ports. These merchants were officially forbidden to settle for more than 10 years, to marry there and own estates other than for strict reasons of shelter or trade. (72)

22 Schmitt explains how the French consulate in a report concerning the status of a man named M. Bornet in 1887 writes that he is among the very many French in these lands who doesn’t speak a word of his national language but only Greek and Turkish. Furthermore, he complains that this monsieur avoids his obligations such as the military service and only recalls his Frenchness in times of conflict with the local authorities. (114-115)

39 to explain how the loosening of the communal structures of the Empire in cosmopolitan contexts were infusing the city space with a new openness and energy but that at the same time it was also causing anxiety. As more sections of the society were eager to blend into a European culture and society, the origins and genuineness were becoming a distressing question in the context of rapid social, economic and political changes. On the other hand, in the context of the rise of nationalisms, forms of belonging were gaining new meanings. However, it is important to remember that in this cosmopolitan milieu strangeness was a form of being that was diffuse and well tolerated. This also sheds some light on the success of Smyrna social structure to be more immune to intercommunal conflict which occasionally did exist but fast suppressed and balanced.

Levantines: Belonging and Strangeness

Schmitt claims that Levantine’s attachment to their nations were solely grounded on benefiting from the system of capitulations and on the maintenance of their Smyrniot community in contrast to their recently immigrated co-nationals who have a “real” belief in the idea of nation-state and secularism. He claims that Levantines’ commitment to their nation is solely on the appearance and that under this exterior identity, they have a “real” inner one which is shaped by Ottoman structure of confessional communities. (Schmitt, 116)

Smyrnelis explains that without taking into consideration the everyday practices of its inhabitants, it is hard to penetrate to the complexity of identity and belonging. Malte Fuhrmann takes this approach a step forward and stresses that we

40 might also need subjective testimony, or written legacies to understand the values attached to multiple belongings by their holders.

Like Levantines, many inhabitants of the port city were trying to reconcile the partly contradictory discourses of nationalism and cosmopolitanism in their everyday lives through a play of identities.

Levantines imagination of their “official” national identity was formed through an imagination from the context of Ottoman community structures. Instead of calling Levantines European national identity as exterior, it can be more just to think of it as another sort of miscellaneous reworking, a reiteration that has its own peculiar and complex character.

They were firmly settled in the city, made their industrial, commercial or estate investments in Smyrna23. However, the fact that they were a part of Ottoman society doesn’t mean that they were indifferent to the nations they were at least officially a part of. How they imagined their relationship to their supposed lands/nations of origin is a matter to be further inquired. Because one can feel truly

French but may not have the intention or willingness to live in France or one can feel truly French and yet compete against French interests. The deeds and how they are interpreted and imagined by their agents are different levels. In this respect, if we evaluate their relation to nationality as solely exterior (considering their enmeshment in Smyrna and Ottoman society) then we would judge them as the many European travelers did: that they are easterners in western garments and only pretending

Europeanness, Frenchness, or Italianness but that they were actually Ottomans and felt themselves to be so...

23 Re me mber Reşat Kasaba’s point that especially after the second half of the nineteenth century the non-Muslim merchants of the Empire not only worked through European capital but also strongly competed with it. (Kasaba, “İzmir”)

41 The Decline of the Levantine Community

The Levantine merchants had been in a key position in the making the city of

Smyrna a “nodal point” of commerce with their complex trade relations that bound the city to different parts of the world. They have tactfully asserted their interests by recruiting their consuls in the negotiations with the capital. But the early Tanzimat was differentiated as a period when the small but economically prominent colony of foreigners began to exert a more unmediated influence on the politics and administration of the city. (Zandi-Sayek, “Orchestrating”) This is also revealed in the records that Kasaba provides about the Municipality Council of Izmir which was inaugurated in 1868. The council had 24 members; 6 Muslim, 5 Greek, 3 Armenian,

1 Jew, and 9 foreigners. (Kasaba, Dünya, 111) The over representation of foreigners points to their current dominance concerning urban issues.

Schmitt rightly points that the decline of the Levantine community was well under way before the Great Fire of 1922 and the institution of the Republican nationalist order; they were only like a final blow to the already moribund community of Levantines. The shattering of the cosmopolitan structure of Smyrna at whose formation they were the key agents, also meant the shattering of the Levantine community. The ever pressing demands of rising nationalisms were diminishing their spaces for maneuver. Strict definitions and regularization were affecting mostly the

Levantines as they were the main beneficiaries of the possibility of transience through political, juridical systems. (Schmitt, 115) The modernization, nationalization and secularization of Ottoman society along with the rivalry among the Grand Nations for dominance in the eastern Mediterranean all made their particular contributions. Both the Young Turk administration (1908) and the Greek

42 administration (1920) weakened the status of this merchant colony in commercial matters.

In the Republican Period, with its heightened nationalism and distaste for cosmopolitanism, Levantines were depicted as betrayers of their generous Ottoman hosts and accumulators of unfair wealth working as a comprador bourgeoisie against

Ottoman interests. Furthermore their mixed, undetermined origins, their peculiar traditions and languages were also considered as corrupted and unvirtuous. We can also feel the bitterness directed against the non-Muslim population of the Empire in the meanings the word Levantine acquired at this time. The word Levantine appears in the Turkish dictionaries as late as 1920s. The definition for Levantine is cited as

Tatlısu Frenk’i meaning “Sweet Water Frank” (the 1928 Turkish-French Dictionary of Hasan Bedreddin). (Eldem, 15-16) Ilber Ortaylı points that sweet water fish is used disdainfully to contrast to the sea fish which is the “real” thing. (Ortaylı, 23) As

Eldem explains the non-Muslims of the Empire were accused to imitate Europeans by wearing hats or adapting other European symbols and practices.

In the Republican city cleansed of its Greek and Armenian inhabitants,

Levantines and Jews found themselves as outside this community of common identity. They were marginalized in this imagined community of the nation where the main axis of solidarity has been dependent upon ethnicity and religion.

In contrast to cosmopolitanism where links to the wider world is all too apparent and stressed, the order of the nation-state is founded on a master opposition between the inside and the outside. The nation, with its vigilantly guarded borders that delineate the inside from the outside, inheres a particular intolerance against the stranger. On the other hand, as Bauman notes referring to Simmel, the stranger is actually a product of the modern orders that wage a doomed battle against

43 ambivalence. The inside and outside correspond to a vital opposition of friends and enemies. Bauman stresses that these two modes exhaust the relation to the other as a subject. The form of sociation depends on detecting who is really a friend and who is the enemy. Furthermore, this inheres a power relation where friends have an exclusive right to define who the enemy is; the inside by erecting borders defines the outside. As in other cases, the imposition of order to chart the inside and the outside, the friend and enemy produces wastes. The stranger who is both/neither enemy and/nor friend, both/neither inside and/or outside is this waste of undecidables.

According to Bauman it is for this reason that the stranger is more threatening than the enemy in modern orders. Accordingly, the stranger by threatening to expose the artificiality of the oppositions the nation is founded on, actually threatens the necessity of the national order which has created it while creating itself. In this respect, the stranger as a waste threatens the order as the return of the repressed.

(Bauman, 53-61)

In the next chapter, I will try to open up Levantines’ relation to the nation- state and how it is perceived by them with insights derived from the fieldwork I have conducted in Izmir.

44 CHAPTER 3: UNEASY HOMES: STIRRINGS BETWEEN THE ‘HOMEY’ AND THE ‘UNHOMEY’

Home as a Key Concept to Understand Levantines’ Senses of Belonging

It is hard to dwell on the significance and particularity of the idea of home as it is an extremely entangled concept. In recent years, it seems that research and writing on the “home” have proliferated. Home is taken under deeper analysis through several different disciplines and it is dealt with in its complex relations to identity, nationalism, imperialism, memory, emotions, gender, housing, migration, work, etc.

(Blunt and Mallett) The home has often been used as a metaphor to infuse understandings of entities like the nation, empire, gender, etc. with its strong primordial connotations and affectivity. This renders the idea of home overloaded and makes it both intriguing and hard to work with. In this respect, before going on a discussion of home, identity and belonging, I should remark that I will necessarily emphasize certain aspects of it while disregarding other qualities which are equally imposing.

I have explained in the preceding chapter how Levantinity was characterized by the community’s relative distance from both the Ottoman social and political structure and that of their country of origin. In the Republican period the distance has been kept albeit in a different form and context. With the foundation of the Turkish nation-state some of the Levantines acquired Turkish citizenship and some continued to hold European citizenships of various nations.1 The foreign citizenship holders of

1 The Catholics of Izmir according to the 1974 statistics of Oriente Cattolico (Cité du Vatican, 1974, 2.850, cf. p. 460) quoted by Missir de Lusignan were composed of Turkish citizens (about 30%), Italian citizens (about 30%), French citizens (about 10%) and citizens of diverse nationalities like English, Dutch, Greek, Austrian (about 30%). However, Missir de Lusignan stresses that these are not exact numbers as they comprise not only the permanent Catholic residents of Izmir but also temporary ones such as the members of the NATO. Missir de Lusignan in his 1978 essay refers to Mgr. Descuffi

45 the community had to renew their residence and work permits each few years. They have been constantly face to face with the possibility that their permits might not be renewed and that they might be expulsed. Mme Donatella explains how she used to be afraid of attracting the contempt of police officers as she felt as if she wouldn’t be able to defend herself due to her poor Turkish.2

Foreigners had to get it once a year or within two years for residence. They were making it very difficult. You had to go to the police station or else they came to your house (...) Once, I was having breakfast. They came and took me to the police station. Can you believe it? (...) He asked some questions. I didn’t understand, I gave an answer, but it wasn’t a bad answer, but the police chief was a cross man, I never forget that day, I wanted to be dead, it was as bad as that (...) I don’t know, is there a problem with my residence permit, I don’t remember. He told me to stop talking and that he could expel me from the homeland right away if he wanted it (...) I hadn’t done anything wrong, then as we were talking, another man came in and said to the police chief not to be so harsh (...) and the guy changed his tone a bit, started acting more naturally, and after 10 minutes he turned into a totally different person, because he understood that there was nothing bad about me. There had been a mistake, it wasn’t important, but he had behaved so because I was a foreigner, then he saw his own mistake and offered me tea as I was leaving. He wanted me to stay, he said sorry, he turned from a beast into a human, because I had behaved nicely not badly. Now if I had been a cross person and had known how to speak the language I would have given harsh answers, do you see? But I smoothed the man with my patience and sweetness (...) I wish I could have slapped him, strangled him. He made me sit at the table and gave me tea. He came to the door with me as I was leaving and gave me a soft slap, nothing serious, like a caress. Look how the beast had changed! (...) They were frightening us when they were talking rudely and we were afraid, we were afraid to make a mistake because our Turkish was not good, do you see?.. (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007)

the former archbishop of Izmir who claims that after the Second World War the number of Levantines are stabilized around 2000 members. (Missir de Lusignan, 49) According to a Levantine Catholic church volunteer that I interviewed, today the population of the Levantine community of Izmir has decreased to 1350 people.

2 During our interviews although I told her a few times that we can also speak French, she insisted on speaking Turkish. Despite the occasional difficulties in expressing herself, she told me: “it is better this way, I am practicing my Turkish”. It is significant that although she is over eighty years of age, she still strives to improve her Turkish. It is as if she feels empowered in being able to express herself in Turkish, or to put it the other way round, she would feel disempowered as she did once at the police station had she not spoken Turkish to me.

46 Similarly Mme Roberta explained the general fear of displacement regnant during the Second World War. As she describes:

You see these were very difficult times. They told us not to speak, not to dispute with anyone; we lived in a sort of terror if you want. Because with one denunciation in twenty four hours one could become ‘persona non grata’, and they could have expulsed you. There were a lot of our acquaintances who were expulsed like this over a day. If you spoke a little much things like “Mussolini has won all this and this up there” and if someone heard you, you became ‘persona non grata’. So all of a sudden your papers go and you are expulsed in twenty four hours. There were a lot of them who were expulsed like this... (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007)

Both Mme Donatella and Mme Roberta emphasized that today things have changed immensely and the hostile attitude that they received from time to time in the past have completely disappeared. Nonetheless, Mme Marilisa explained that although the hostile attitude of the officials has changed, still many Levantines are timid and cautious with regard to state officials.

Just as Levantinity cannot be explained with the millet system that ran through the Empire, it cannot be explained by the ethno-religious community of the nation, it is both within and above the scope of these frames of identity. As Bauman points the anomaly of the ‘stranger’ arises as both an under- and an over-definition.

Levantines have been ‘strangers’ throughout a vast span of time. Although what strangeness meant and how it has been experienced, has changed in relation to the changes in political, social and economic structures, Levantines’ “stranger-ness” persisted.

Home emerges as an invaluable concept to understand this ambiguously situated community’s senses of belonging because as Rapport and Dawson point many concepts to understand identity such as ethnicity, locality, religion, nationality fall short of the “universally affective power of home”. (Rapport and Dawson, 8)

47 Besides Rapport and Dawson, many authors writing on the home stress that home is an affective space of deeply felt “belonging and alienation, intimacy and violence, desire and fear”, and that it is a deeply felt tension. (Blunt and Varley, 3 and Mallett, 69-70) As Miller writes: “If home is where the heart is, then it is also where it is broken, torn and made whole in the flux of relationships, social and material.” (Miller, 15)

I hope to utilize this strong affective power of home to understand how

Izmirian Levantine women perceive and experience their relation to the city, neighborhood, religion, nationality etc. In other words, I hope to understand the complexity and multi-dimensionality of their identities with their links to various geographies and imaginings through the idea of home.

Rapport and Dawson conceptualize the home as mobile, as not necessarily tied to particular spaces. In an age of globalization of continual physical and cultural movement, the idea of home as stable physical centre of universe seems anachronistic to Rapport and Dawson.( Rapport and Dawson, 7) For this reason, they conceptualize the home as it comes about in and through movement, home as

“something taken along whenever one decamps”.( Rapport and Dawson, 7) They are especially interested in the senses of home as localized in certain practices, bodily habits, forms of interaction, memories, stories, objects, food, language that are carried along in movement.

Throughout this writing, I will try to think of the home in its relation to spaces. Rather than concentrating on movement and how the home emerges through movement like Rapport and Dawson, I want to draw on from Massey and concentrate on an idea of home as itself inhering movement, as inhering other places.

In this respect, one of my questions would be how certain spaces are infused with a

48 sense of home, or in other words, how home is contextualized in concrete spaces.

Another set of questions will concern how the history of the particular place called home influence, constrain, and subvert the present community’s experience of home.

In other words, how do homes as themselves infused with the agency of their previous occupants affect the relation between the home and its community? (Miller,

10)

I have explained in the preceding chapter how Schmitt, for the nineteenth century, considers Levantinity as strongly marked by Catholicism (not to forget the small but influential English protestant community), and by an imagination of

European origins. I want to add to these two characteristics another two -drawing on from my fieldwork- which are a strong attachment to particular localities (this can be

Izmir, or its smaller districts or neighborhoods) where patriarchal families are rooted and a stress on the multi-national structure of families3. This is one of the reasons why I am especially interested in the relations of home with particular places.

Levantines’ senses of home and belonging always refer to certain imaginations of distant and immediate geographies.

3 Panutti concentrating on the Italian Levantines of Istanbul in the twentieth century explains that their myhtology of geneologies follow two courses. One is a claim to aristocratic roots and the other the hybridity of origins formed through marriages to both local Christians and Christians of various European nations. For Panutti this idea of hybridity is mythologic as Levantines are a community formed at a time when citizenship did not exist in Europe, also the Ottoman social structure was based on a representation based on religion, in other words, it functioned through millets. Moreover, citizenship and protection (berats) of various nations had come to be objects of trade especially in the nineteenth century. In this respect what Levantines call hybridity, or mixed marriages weren’t at all mixed in this context. (Panutti, 2005, p.20) See also his dissertation entitled “Les Italiennes d’Istanbul Au Xxe Siécle: Entre Préservation Identitaire et Effacement”, Paris III, Etudes Italiennes, 2004

49 Porous Boundaries between the Home and the World

For Heidegger, the way in which humans are on earth is dwelling. (100) Dwelling is achieved through building. He uses building in an encompassing way to include cultivation (like growing vegetables) and construction (like building a house).

Whether it is cultivation or construction, building is a space making for Heidegger.

Through labor and care the space is made inhabitable. As he puts it: “Spaces open up by the fact that they are let into the dwelling of man. To say that mortals are is to say that in dwelling they persist through spaces by virtue of their stay among things and locations. (...) The relationship between man and space is none other than dwelling, strictly thought and spoken.” (Heidegger, 107)

For Heidegger, to be able to make space inhabitable, we need to open up and clear spaces, and mark them with efforts of building for the sake of dwelling. Only such spaces that are gone through a certain construction deserve to be called locations. These locations then serve us as reference points to orient ourselves in our stay on earth. In this sense, they have a peculiar power of attraction and unification marked by the concept of dwelling.

Accordingly, for Heidegger, boundaries are essential as they limit and let the space within acquire its particularity. That is why the act of border making is a creative act. As he puts it: “A space is something that has been made room for, something that is cleared and free, namely within a boundary, Greek peras. A boundary is not that at which something stops but, as the Greeks recognized, the boundary is that from which something begins its presencing. That is why the concept is that of horismos that is, the horizon, the boundary.” (Heidegger, 105)

50 The concept of horizon indicates that boundary marks a double presencing. It both marks the presence of the ‘home’ and its bordering neighbor. In other words the boundary is also where something else (not self but the other) begins its presencing.

The metaphor of the door that Simmel elaborates on his essay “The Bridge and the Door” introduces a new dimension to the concept of boundary. For Simmel, the door separates a delineated space from all the rest that remains outside. It separates the bounded unity, the peras from the boundless, the infinitude yet, at the same time it connects so that when opened, the door reconnects the house with the rest of the universe. As he explains: “...its (for example, the house’s) limitedness finds its significance and dignity only in that which the mobility of the door illustrates: in the possibility at any moment of stepping out of this limitation into freedom.” (Simmel, 69)

The door is both inside and outside, it both connects and separates but most importantly, the door manifests the capacity to be able to set a boundary and also to be able to remove it. In this respect, the door is differentiated from the more static forms of boundaries like the wall with its dynamism and porousness. As Simmel so nicely puts: “The latter (unstructured wall) is mute but the door speaks.” (Simmel,

67)

Sözer by elaborating on Simmel’s idea of the door, argues that the door is a sign with which the “boundless” marks the “bounded” by announcing that the bounded, the peras, in the end, belongs to what remains beyond its boundaries. For

Sözer, the neglect of the idea of “the door” in Heidegger restricts his ideas of movement to two options of coming in or going out, or in other words, restricts it between “adventure” and “home coming” which causes the ignorance of the possibility of encountering the other. In other words, the absence of the door and an

51 exclusive attention to the boundary renders invisible how the inside and outside are enmeshed in each other or how adventure can be homecoming or homecoming can be adventure itself. That is why for Sözer, Simmel’s concept of the “stranger” which exemplifies such enmeshment is hard to deal with Heidegger’s ideas on space, home, and movement. Simmel by introducing the motif of the “door” also sheds light on the varied possibilities that spaces inhere.

One of them is the threshold. The door gives rise to this peculiar space of the threshold. Unlike a mere wall on which it is impossible to stand, the door makes the threshold appear as an occupiable liminal space that is neither encompassed by the inside nor the outside. (Sözer, 121) This has strong resonations with the idea of the stranger who is her/himself at the same time near and far, inside and outside the group and its home.

Sözer further elaborates on the significance of the door and explains that when the door is opened, it opens to a passage that gives way to the other as the word “gateway” suggests. The door can never be totally closed, it is always porous4.

It can only be temporarily closed and temporarily opened, these acts foreshadow each other. Furthermore, it serves as a gateway from the apparent to the unapparent and in the unapparent it serves as a reference point to orient ourselves. As Sözer puts it, the threshold opens to a road that leads to the opacity of the possibilities. (Sözer,

124-126)

The door as giving way to the other is of utmost importance because the other is through whom we come to know ourselves. In other words, we know ourselves from our difference from the other which means that we inhere the other in what we

4 Sözer draws our attention to the etymology of the word. The French word for door “la porte” comes from the Greek word “poros”. The pore refers to the porosity of the door. Furthermore, poros comes from the word pareo which means to cross to the other side. This is also related to the word “peirar” which means the boundary and according to Aristoteles “peirar” is refers to “sign”, “indication” and “reference point”. (Sözer, 125)

52 are. In a similar way, every place inheres other places; they can only be properly placed in their relation to other places. In this respect, one’s house can never be exclusively characterized by itself; it can never be a pure home as long as it has a door that gives way to other homes. For Sözer, immanence and transcendence is unthinkable with the contingency the door brings forward. What makes the particularity of a home is the different ways it is connected to the outside. (Sözer,

126) The doors are what give homes their identity: “Every house is a gateway (to a street or to another house), but at the same time it is the here and now of the possibilities of the world.” (Sözer, 126)

Only when we let the world in can we close the door, because before encountering the other we cannot tell our difference, our particularity, or our boundaries. Then this means, as Sözer stresses, that closing is only possible when it is preceded and succeeded by opening and the work of the door is avoiding a total closing and a total opening. The door is the contingency of the world’s possibilities.

(Sözer, 126)

Sözer by introducing Simmel’s concept of the door to Heidegger’s concept of the boundary, achieves to lend spaces and boundaries their dynamism and contingency. Similarly, Massey by conceptualizing places as constituted of processes of diverse social relations that change with broad historical shifts as well as with smaller day to day vicissitudes point to the dynamism and contingency places inhere.

In other words, the way places are positioned within broader social, political, economic relations are differential and open to change. Actually it is these linkages of relations to other places, their cumulation, their enmeshment into each other that constitutes places. As Massey expresses; “...it is precisely in part the presence of the

53 outside within which helps to construct the specificity of the local place.” (Massey,

170)

It is in this respect that she points to the inadequacy of Heidegger’s conceptualization of space as being (stasis, fixity) and time as becoming

(“progressive” in modernist terms). (Massey, 135-136) Spaces cannot be static or fixed beacuse they harbour other places through linkages of communication and exchange. In this respect, locations as sites of connection, interaction and conflict harbor a copresence that renders the dichotomy of inside and outside unthinkable. As

Massey writes:

(...) the identity of any place, including that place called home, is in one sense forever open to contestation. (...) This is in contrast to many readings of place as home, where there is imagined to be the security of a (false, as we have seen) stability and an apparently reassuring boundedness. Such understandings of the identity of places require them to be enclosures, to have boundaries and –therefore and most importantly- to establish their identity through negative counterposition with the other beyond the boundaries. (Massey, 169)

Furthermore, persons and groups that inhabit places are also differentially positioned in the spatial relations of communication and exchange and in their degree of control and initiation of these networks. (Massey, 150) As these linkages affect different groups differently, the meanings attached to them are are also different and often in conflict.

The boundaries of home are where “something begins its presencing” and the door connects the two sides of the boundaries and lets the world and the other in the home and most importantly the home changes through this process of letting in and leaving out. In view of this, I will try to explore how the “door” works for both the home of the community of the Turkish nation and the home of the Levantines’ small

54 Izmirian community. When and why the doors of the community homes are opened, when and why they are closely secured?

The Home as a Material and Imaginary Refuge

For Bachelard the house as ultimate resistance is defensive and not offensive. It protects us from the many threats the universe has spared for us. As Bachelard writes: “It is an instrument with which to confront the cosmos.” (46) In other words, the home provides a sort of protection that increases our capacity for resistance.

Douglas explains the significance of the home concentrating on a similar point but moving on from a different perspective than Bachelard who is engaged in the poetic aspects of the image of the home. For her, the home is a particular organization of space over time. This particular space is structured by a community to respond to outside pressures. She explains how “each building has a distinctive capacity for memory and anticipation.” (Douglas, 294) This capacity for memory and anticipation is helpful not only in engendering the structuring and allocation of the home space but also in the formation of its time structure, that is, its peculiar regularities and conventions. These regularities and conventions exert a tyrannous control over the inhabitants who are expected to observe them. In this respect, the home is oppressive yet at the same time it serves as a refuge to outside pressures.

These outside pressures can be day to day needs or cyclical events such as summer and winter or longer ones like births and deaths or even cataclysisms such as earthquakes or floods. She explains how the memory of a harsh winter will have repercussions on how the house is constructed, the anticipation will also be apparent on how and when the stocks for the winter will be done.

55 Although Douglas concentrates on the more material functional aspects of responding to outside pressures, the anticipated threats can also be totally imagined.

They can be responses to long gone threats that still have a hold on the memory of the home’s community through inherited traumas. In view of this, the perceived threats, whether imagined or real, are crucial in how the home will structure itself with regard to what will be delineated as the outside. The community will draw its boundaries and decide who are friends and who are enemies accordingly. In other words, these perceived threats will guide the working of the door.5

The home is a homey place for the community as long as it can respond to threats competently. Respectively, Levantines’ small community and the Turkish nation can be considered as home spaces created to thwart threats. Based on a distinction between self and other, insider and outsider they constantly strive to make the home spaces cozy, friendly, amiable by trying to leave out anything that will result in a sort of alienation.

We know from Kristeva that we are “strangers to ourselves” that each of us is both a “self” and an “other” and it is actually this tension, that the divide creates, that is constitutive of identity. (Kristeva and Malcomson, 178) In this respect, “self” and

“non-self”, “home” and “non-home” are mutually constitutive. The “other” is a repression of a wound denied and displaced. Similarly, the foreigner is a repression of the nation with wounds exteriorized and projected. She explains that a nation without a wound or foreigners is not possible but that it is possible to accept this

“wound” and avoid naming scapegoats. She explains in clinical terms that “any cure begins with an assurance, a narcissistic gratification. Then you can dig into things

5 This is also in line with Smith’s elaboration of the importance of “an external threat” in the political activation of the ethnie in the emergence of modern nations. It is the constitutive myths that mobilize the community with ties of solidarity against this threat. These myths are derived from the stock of more or less shared culture, symbols, memory and reestablish the community territorially and genealogically in a “homeland”.

56 and touch the wound.” (Kristeva and Malcomson, 178) Because only when one is reassured of one’s self worth that s/he will be able to recognize her/his weaknesses, her/his own ‘otherness’.

For this reason, Kristeva offers “an optimal idea of the nation”, that will furnish the person with favorable economic conditions, and a feeling of pride and identity, as providing the basis for reassurance. She believes it is only then, when we feel secure enough, that we are also strong enough to confront our otherness.

(Kristeva and Malcomson, 179) However, she also warns that this needs utmost subtlety as an over-reassurance has the danger of turning into a “nationalist frenzy”.

It is in this respect that Kristeva argues that “the nation remains, for now, the only communitarian ideology in which people can find refuge” as responding to a psychological, political, and social identitarian need. (Kristeva and Malcomson, 174)

Without getting into a discussion of whether the nation is “the refuge” for the time being, I want to concentrate on her suggestion and analysis in terms of the significance of a refuge to confront the world, in other words, the significance of

“closing” in order to be able to “open”. I will try to think of the home most generally as such a refuge that provides belonging and reassurance to a community. Home as both a space and an affect created through the imagination of a community.

Mallet’s remarks, pointing to some philosophers like Kuang-Ming Wu who conceptualize the home as an intersubjective relationship that constitutes the person, also make a similar point. As she explains, for Kuang-Ming Wu, “I” is always relational it is born through “being-with-others” and when one finds reassurance, s/he finds her/his home. Mallet further explains as:

As such ‘I’ comes into being in relation to an-other and the other can become my hell and my home. Accordingly, to say that I am at home means ‘I am at

57 home in you (singular plural)’. When you accept me as I am, and I accept you accepting me then I am at home and ‘I am born in this reciprocal acceptance’ (194). ‘’ Home is where I both was born and am being continually born, within that womb called other people, in their being not me’ (195). (Mallet, 83)

Home is actually a way through which we strive towards wholeness how unreachable that may be. Wholeness, in the sense that, one is accepted as one is in her/his integrity. It is a process whereby we confront ever new and ongoing challenges or pressures from “outside”, from our “inside” wounds when it is hard to be at home in our bodies, families, communities. How doomed a fantasy it be, I believe that the imagining of home as wholeness gives the home its affective power. Bachelard is maybe one of the strongest writers in praising the fantasmic pleasures of the home. In his book “The Poetics of Space”, he is concerned with the spaces we love. He concentrates on images of spaces that contain love, intimacy, care, comfort and security, that is why he calls his work as topohilia, as tracing felicitous space. He concentrates on houses, nests, shells as the utmost examples of this kind of a space.

The house image is an archetypal image for Bachelard. By making analogies of the house with mother and womb as our first abode, he places our being in an original well-being. That is why every time we dream of the house we were born in we are taken back to an original warmth. According to Bachelard, the house contains our intimate being, it brings together our memories and things we have forgotten, it is an integrating force. The house provides for the being stability and continuity. But the most important benefit of the house is that it protects the dreamer, it is the shelter of daydreaming and its joys. (Bachelard, 6-7)

As he elaborates, childhood remains in us not as facts but as poetic images with its reverberating sensations. To dream is to live in this first house that is lost. It is homesickness for the irretrievable. In this respect, seeking for the first home, or for

58 fullness, by dreaming in the secluded corners of the house has its joys but it has also its resentments. However, Bachelard deliberately chooses to concentrate on the blissful aspects of home. For Price, Bachelard’s choice contains a neglect “that both contains and hides power.” (Price, 51) As she explains, it is the women who are supposed to create such felicitous spaces out of the home where men can repose and dream of wholeness. For Price, it is because the experiences of women as the producers of home places are inexistent and silenced that the dreamer of the felicitous space can pretend to be solitary and unbound by sociality. The idealization of the home as a place of timeless tranquility arises out of its juxtaposition to the sociality and vicissitudes of public space.6 However, rather than being a safe secluded place, “a warm bosom”, the home is also the place where women most often confront violence and domination.

Furthermore, as Martin and Mohanty point that upper-class women’s comfort of the homes is secured by black and lower-class women who clean and dust them although they themselves have, if only, precarious “homes”. (Young, 146-149) In this respect the home is both a site of privilege and of domination.

Many other feminist writers, concentrating on the home with various concerns, point to the dangers of the fantasy of wholeness attached to the home. For example, Young points to Bonnie Honig’s critique that the idea of home especially in post-colonial settings provides a safe ground for rejection of differences and particularly internal differences and disguise the processes and history of othering, exclusion and oppression as they are threats to a unified and confident ego. (Young,

146-149)

6 Hareven (1991) points to the history of the denigration of the home as a phantasmic retreat, a haven for the family detached from the outside world. As she explains the “domestic ideal” and the infusion of the home with a certain morality and emotionality forming through the nineteenth century was an invention of the bourgeois middle classes at a time of rapid industrialism and urbanization and its first critics were the women themselves who were burdened with achieving these domestic ideals.

59 Young considers this criticism of rejecting conflict and social difference as crucial. She points to the nation as “homeland” as such a case. The nation imagined as a homogenous totality tends to deny social differences and tries to impose to a geographical area this image of a coherent community with a stable identity. The imposition of “home” on “homeland” brings with it many questions and peculiar occurrences that I will try to dwell on in the next section.

Keeping all these criticisms in mind, I want to consider the home as a tension between real and ideal, between security and prison, between pleasure and resentment, between wholeness and its lacks. That these are not oppositions but mutually constituting ideas and experiences. (Mallet, 70) In sum, the home cannot be thought apart from homelessness.

Home creating Homelessness: Natives and Strangers

In this section, I will concentrate on how the nation as the search for a home leaves so many homeless in the context of the formation of the Turkish nation.

The dissolution of the Ottoman Empire that started by the end of the seventeenth century was accompanied by cataclysmic transformations in the lives of its inhabitants. As can be expected by hindsight, the various nation-states formed were attempting to rigorously promote ethnic, religious, linguistic and cultural homogeneity in the lands they began to rule over.

For Bauman, like all communities the nation-state collectivizes friends and enemies, however; the particularity of the nation-state arises in its redefinition of the friends as natives and its distaste for the so called strangers. For the nation-state formed through an opposition of inside and outside marked through frontiers, it is

60 hard to deal with strangers that are non-natives whose origins are tied to outside but nevertheless who still refuse to go. In this respect, they disrupt the nation-state’s spatio-politics of one coherent community rooted in and inhabiting one land.

For him, the stranger is the waste produced through the imposition of this nationalist dichotomizing order that evolves from inside-outside and friends-enemies to natives-strangers. However, Bauman stresses that like any other attempt to clear ambiguity by furthering symbolic and material violence, the nation-state’s attempts only contribute to the further creation of wastes or, in this case, to the further creation of strangers who become homeless in the houses they live in.

This was what happened to many people with the dissolution of the Empire and the gradual formation of various nation-states. Many found themselves as strangers to the lands they had inhabited for centuries because they did not share the ethnic-religious origins of the dominant group. The homogenizing attempts to achieve “one nation, one people” or “one nation, one culture” or the like brought with it mass expulsions and exterminations of the ones who were thought to be blurring the boundaries of the nation and deranging its unity. According to Karpat between 1856 and 1914, more than seven million immigrants fled from the former

Ottoman lands to seek refuge in Anatolia. (Çağaptay, 5) These people were to be the subjects and objects of another nationalism gaining weight in Anatolia.

Çağaptay notes that, after Balkan Wars of 1912-13, the fact that the Empire lost almost all of its European territories except the Eastern Thrace, had a great impact on the rise of nationalism among the Ottoman-Turkish Muslim elite as a viable option at the expense of the belief in a multi-ethnic and multi-religious

Empire. (Çağaptay, 7) As he explains, after the Balkan wars, the Young Turk government more distinctly adopted nationalism and passed laws for the economic

61 and demographic Turkification of the remaining imperial lands. Territorial losses and homogenization attempts of the nations resulted in a dramatic change in the ethnic and religious composition of Anatolia. Anatolia became a predominantly Muslim land. According to Keyder, before the First World War 20% of the population of the residents of today’s Turkey was composed of non-Muslims, after the war the ratio decreased to 2.5 %. (Aktar, 24)

The imagination of Turkishness is of utmost importance as this is what guides the delineation of who is a native and who is a stranger. This imagination, as many authors suggest, was strongly marked by the Ottoman millet system based mainly on a differentiation of Muslim and non-Muslim. As Quataert stresses Ottoman

Christians had often used “Turk” which is an ethnic term to refer to all Muslims

(except Arabs) living in Anatolia and the Balkans. For instance, Circassians, Kurds or Albanians were all named Turk. (Quataert, 251) This heritage, that has been influential in the new nation’s imagination of Turkishness, has survived till today.7

Soner Çağaptay explains that by the nation founding elites the Muslims inhabiting the former Ottoman lands -although many of them were neither ethnically

Turk nor spoke Turkish- were thought assimilable to Turkishness. On the other hand, many non-Muslim residents of Thrace and Anatolia became the object of population exchanges and deportations as they were considered unfit for assimilation into

Turkishness. Muslims from the Balkans, and the Black Sea Region were encouraged to migrate to the newly founded nation, while the Ottoman Christians from the same

7 Some of my interviwees pointed to this conflation of Turkishness with being a Muslim and complained about it as marginalizing themselves and other non-Muslim Turks. Uttering their Christian names, they are most often considered as a stranger and are exposed to questions inquiring their origins.

62 regions were not permitted to do so. The 1926 settlement act was banning the entry of migrants who were not accultured in “Turkish culture”. (Çağaptay, 95-96) 8

While the borders of Turkishness were open and flexible with regard to

Muslims of various ethnies, it was not so for the non-Muslim inhabitants. The remaining Ottoman non-Muslims who became Turkish citizens continued to be considered as alien and inassimilable to Turkishness. They became unwanted strangers whose presence was a nuisance that required constant vigilance and special measures.

For Bauman, the loyalty of the native is taken for granted but the loyalty of the stranger always arouses doubt and needs constant vigilance. Because unlike the native who is tied to the nation with the bonds of “commonality of fate” the stranger is tied to the nation with an almost free will, of choice. As he explains: “whatever has been chosen may be renounced.” (Bauman, 78-79) In this respect, Donatella’s story is telling. She explains how her father was accused to be a spy as the police mistook the lightening arrester, that was placed at the top of the house, for an antenna. As she explains:

They were nearly putting my father into prison, because my father had built a lightening arrester at home, you know to prevent lightening. They said that he was spying. Police came and wanted to take him away. Thanks God, one of our neighbors told the police: “this gentleman is not such a person”. Then the police asked what the antenna was for? There were no lightning arresters in Karşıyaka; our building was the highest around. The police insisted that it was an antenna but it was indeed a lightening arrester; they took my father to the police station and asked him to explain. I was very little back then. Let’s

8 Çağaptay stresses that although the first Republican bureauracts considered the former Ottoman Muslims who were not ethnically Turk as assmilable to Turkishness, this does not mean that they were blind to ethnic differences. On the contrary, they were the object of anxieties and deliberate settlement plans. Great care was given to place these non-ethnic elements among regions with a strong ethnically Turkish population to facilitate their assimilation.

63 say 70 years ago. Then they understood that there had been a mistake and apologized. (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007)

According to Bali the discriminatory policies against the non-Muslims reaches its peak in the Second World War years and reduces its vigor with the end of the Single

Party era in the 1950s. As Bauman notes an outstanding feature of the era of the formation of national states is its cultural intolerance and impatience with difference.

(Bauman, 141) Bali considers the years to the end of the Single Party era as the formative years of the Turkish Republic where two significant aims were pursued.

The first one is the creation of a citizen out of the residues of an imperial structure based on religious communities called the millets and the creation of national economy with the predominance of a Muslim Turkish bourgeoisie.

Among the many policies that aimed the non-Muslim communities, three of them reappeared throughout the interviews: the “Vatandaş! Türkçe Konuş!” or

“Citizen! Speak Turkish!” campaign, the 1932 law about the arts and services consigned to Turkish citizens, and the Varlık Vergisi (Capital Tax) issued in 1942.

These laws and how they were implemented not only reveal the borders of

Turkishness but they have also been influential in drawing the borders of Levantinity in the Republican Period. These can be considered as among the “external threats” reshaping the place called “home” by the Izmirian community of Levantines.

There have been many attempts on the part of the national government to nationalize the economic workings of the Republic. However, the 1932 law about the arts and services consigned to Turkish citizens9 had a special importance in the

9 For Aktar, this law was targeting the largest section of non-Muslim forgeiners, that is, the Greeks who were permitted to remain and work in Istanbul after the population exchanges between Greece and Turkey. They were not Turkish citizens but had a special status called “établis” or “daimi mukim”. meaning permanent settler. Besides, minorities like the Belarus community in Istanbul or the Levantines that held Italian, French or English passports were permitted to stay in the country benefiting from the status of the “établis”. (Aktar, 120-130)

64 memory of the Levantines I have talked to. This law was forbidding the practice of a diverse number of jobs by the ones who are not Turkish citizens. From simple workers in many sectors to peddlers, hairdressers, photographers, waiter/esses, drivers, dress, shoe, or hat producers, plumbers, musicians, translators and guides to travelers were among the ones who had to quit their jobs.

The law was mentioned when I asked if there was a particular time or occasion when the members of the community left the city. They did not mention the fire as I expected it, but referred to the law forbidding the practice of petits-métiers

(artisanship and professional works) as they call it. They told me that after the issue of this law, small scale workers and professionals had to leave the city and that only a wealthier segment of the community remained. As Mme Roberta explains it:

Levantines were numerous here. Before the fire but also after the fire. But unfortunately after Atatürk had issued the laws about the minorities that they cannot anymore do “petit métiers”, they had to leave. I think nearly 18 000 Italians left for Italy. They were sent to Ethiopia, Libya, Tunisia and Egypt. (...) Only merchants stayed here. All of my father’s family departed to Rhodes. Only my father stayed here, he was already engaged to my mother, and he had a small shop in Alsancak. (...) Because all who were doctors and engineers had to leave, it was the ‘people’ who remained in Alsancak. As I said; only a small minority. (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007)

Mme Roberta continues explaining how after most of the Levantines’ desertion of the city, they regrouped among themselves regardless of whether they were Italian or

French or else, with ties of solidarity even among the harsh conditions of the Second

World War.

All these minorities who found themselves alone and reduced in numbers regrouped themselves around their churches. Nationality was not what mattered; but the fact of being a Catholic here in Izmir. At Punta we were around the church St. Mary with its four or five followers, because all was

65 burnt down. The burnt-down places were called Ta Camena (meaning ‘the burned place’ in Greek). (...) (Were there any disputes among the French, English etc. during the Second World War because Levantines are a mixed society?) We rarely had disputes among ourselves because we were like ‘4 lonely cats’. All the people were afraid. It was the war. We unite at times of misery. During the war, there were no jobs, everyone had limited means. We couldn’t have been jealous of each other with such little means. And after, the famous Capital Tax emerged. (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007)

As a result, just as Kristeva points, the nation has a capacity like the home to be a refuge by providing a certain reassurance. However, on the other hand, the nation gives rise to foreigners and exiles who can be devoid of the basic human rights in a world parceled out by the nations. (Sarup, 100)

In this respect, the “home of the nation” as refuge is problematic and is built on tensions. The nation-state through imposing on the homeland ideas associated with home “mobilizes powerful affinities with family, intimacy, place” (Blunt and

Dowling, 171). As Sennett explains, the family and the home began to be described as ‘the refuge’ with the crisis of the public life in the nineteenth century. The family as the model for close relations where security, rest and permanence is sought is imposed on the nation as the ideal for its forms of collective relations. However, public life is wrought with harsh tensions and injustices that are hard to cope with.

To search for warmth, trust and comfort in this (public) sphere is a doomed attempt.

For Sennett, the mobilization of narcissism, in the social relations has deadly consequences for the public space. Collective personality of the community is constantly questioned in terms of its authenticity. There is no collectivity that can stand the question: Does it really represent me? Even a single person can be considered as split and constantly changing. As there is no such thing as an authentic self, the quest for wholeness always slips away and others are accused of spoiling the intimate collective self and drawing it away from a full mirroring effect. As he

66 explains, the size of the community begins to ever shrink, to localism excluding the ones who are different in terms of class, politics, style, faith... However, in this search for common identity, the pursuit of common interests with strangers in impersonal environments is destroyed. (Sennett, 261) This is what Sennett resents as the closing of the public space. In this respect, to try to render homes as totally secure, cozy, and fulfilling places will inevitably create “wastes” and a lot of homelessness.

In the following sections, I will try to explain how the Levantines as situated on the margins of the national collective self are considered to spoil this familial unity of the nation and the intimacy of the public space of the city. I will argue that as resident foreigners or strangers they arise uncanny effects in the city. Knowing this, they try to retreat from the public space of Izmir to the relative “security” and

“privacy” of their homes, creating themselves new spaces and forms of interaction.

Ghosts of Belonging

Deterritorialization Created by the Fire

Turkish troops reclaimed Izmir in September 1922 and ended the 3 year long Greek administration in Izmir. Izmir’s occupation was also the last point in the War of

Independence that led to the foundation of the Turkish Republic. The Great Fire of

1922 started 4 days after the Turkish troops had taken over the city and destroyed a large part of Izmir. The Frank quarter which was the cultural and commercial core of the city was also where most of the Levantines were settled. The Fire burned down the Frank Quarter along with the Greek and Armenian neighborhoods surrounding it.

67 For the non-Muslim inhabitants of the city the fire was a total human catastrophe. Many Levantines escaped the fire by boarding the ships of their nations that were anchored in the gulf to save their co-nationals. However, many local

Greeks and Armenians fleeing the city with the fear of assassination were not as lucky as the Levantines, who were mostly the subjects of Grand Nations, to find a ship to board. Many people were stuck between the fire and the sea to be finally engulfed by the water or the flames.

Many of the Levantine women of a certain age had live memories of how their parents survived the fire. The stories of Mme Isabella and Mme Andrea suggest the abruptness of the menace of the fire. Mme Isabella’s mother was ten years old when the fire broke in Izmir. It seems that her mother was sent to school as on an ordinary day. When escape seemed inevitable she was boarded on a French navire with the rest of the children of the French school she attended. They were all taken to a camp in Marseille. In the meantime, her grandmother who had been at home managed to escape with her smaller children by boarding on an Italian navire. Losing track of her ten year old girl she landed in Birindizi. It was thanks to a cousin who heard the radio announcements and recognized the surname that in Marseille the family rejoined with their daughter to return back to Izmir after a while.

Even in Karşıyaka10 which was far from the flames, the fire and the expulsion of Greeks and Armenians seem to have left a deep imprint. Vanessa explained how her grandmother recounted that she couldn’t forget the cries of her Greek neighbors who had to leave their homes all of a sudden. Mme Renata who was eighty nine years old was the only witness of the fire among my interviewees. Although she was

10 Karşıyaka which used to be a suburb of Izmir was formed in the 1880s with the introduction of a boat line that connected it to the city center. At the beginning of the twentieth century until 1922 the population of Karşıyaka or Cordelio is about 15,000 inhabitants. According to a Greek source, foreigners compose 35% of its population. It has a number of Catholic schools established by Les Dames de Sion, Les Soeures de Saint Joseph, and Les Frères Capucins. (Georgelin, 45-46)

68 four years old when the fire broke its influence seems to have haunted her almost all her life. She explains the force of its impact on her:

No, I was too little and we immediately went to Egypt. My father stayed here for the house. In Egypt I stayed by my uncle for 3 to 6 months. At nights during the fire in Izmir there were the constant sound of cries and gunshots in the air and I had a crisis when I was little, I was constantly crying. The doctor told my family to take me away, out of this environment. There were no relatives here, my uncle was in Cairo, and so we went there. It was something psychological. The sound of drums, at nights, they didn’t touch Karşıyaka, only the military came, and Kemal Paşa stayed at the house in Karşıyaka, and watched the burning of Izmir from there, and everyone went to the shore to see what was happening, shouting, cries, people coming and going. All this put me into a shock. I have it still at this age, only when my grandchildren were born I got through this shock, the sound of drums make me feel pretty bad. (Renata, personal interview, 23 May 2007)

The sound of the drums beaten to celebrate the victory of the Turkish troops amidst the view of burning Izmir had struck Mme Renata. It seems that she managed to overcome the fear of displacement aroused by witnessing the falling apart of the world she was born in, the people who were forced to flee when she symbolically becomes rooted through her grandchildren. Only then she has come to feel safe and stable. At the time of the interview, she had been living in the same house over sixty years and had the chance to see her grand-grandchildren.

Her daughter Mme Delfina further explained that her grandfather who had remained in Izmir after sending his family to Egypt hung an Italian flag to protect their house from being set to fire. She also emphasized that their Turkish neighbors had helped her grandfather to safeguard the house.

It seems that being an Italian protects them in many ways.11 As Italian citizens they were taken care of by the Italian authorities who want to guarantee their

11 Once again in the events of 6-7 September, although the Catholic church on the same street couldn’t escape from being set to fire, Mme Renata’s house was barely saved thanks to a Turkish- Muslim neighbour who cried out to the crowd, which stopped in front of the house, that it is the house of Italians and not the Greeks.

69 subjects safety by taking them away from the war. Furthermore, the Italian flag seems to have protected the house from the menace that is directed to the ones considered as enemies, namely Greeks and Armenians.

In this respect, Leonora’s story of how the father of her grandmother survived assassination also points to the importance of citizenship in determining who will live and who will die. Although her grandmother’s father was Italian origined, he had a Greek citizenship which would almost lead him to death. As she explains:

Although they were of Italian origin, they once acquired Greek citizenship. During the Independence War, my grandmother was little. When the Turks came to ‘rescue’ the city vice versa, they gathered all the non-Muslim men and killed most of them including children. They also took my grandmother’s father to kill, but because he was an architect, and he had been of some good use, he had done jobs in police stations and the commissar knew him. They went to the commissar and asked him for favor, and he rescued my grandmother’s father. But either one of his sons or his nephews, I am not sure which one, couldn’t be saved, he got killed. During the Population Exchange the whole of my grandmother’s family had to go to Greece, they left all of their houses and belongings back and went there, and from there Turks came here. Because my grandmother was married to a Turkish citizen, she stayed. Her entire family still lives in Greece. Things like this have happened. (Leonora, personal interview, 20 April 2007)

It seems that even when one was a part of Italian or Levantine community at the time of war what mattered was nationality. It also points that the sections of the Levantine society which had close ties with the local non-Muslims had their share of the destruction with assassinations and displacement.

As far as I have understood from the interviews many Levantines didn’t come back to Izmir leaving their homes and memories behind. As Mme Andrea explained it was a hard decision for her parents as well. After going about different towns of

Italy, they had decided that they wouldn’t be able to do anywhere but in Izmir.

70 Returning back they found their houses burned down. That is how the family moved to Karşıyaka, a suburb at the time, to which Mme Andrea’s mother resented very much.

Levantines along with Jews were the two non-Muslim groups that survived the destruction of the fire and witnessed the recreation of the foundation of the

Turkish nation-state. However, different from most of the Jews, the Levantines used to inhabit part of the burned down place and thus had lost their social space in this take over. Although the Greek and Armenian neighborhoods were also destroyed, it was not possible for them to come back to the city. As a result, the Levantines were the only community burdened with creating themselves new spaces in the nationalized city.

Biray Kolluoğlu interprets the Great Fire of 1922 as a symbolic moment of rupture “when the spatial and temporal continuity of Smyrna/Izmir was broken”.

(Kolluoğlu-Kırlı, 4) She considers the subsequent reconstruction of the area by the inauguration of the Republic Square, Kültürpark and The Izmir International Fair, as the carving on cityscape the national identity of Turkishness and Republican aspirations which worked as countermemories to the Ottoman past and the Frank quarter. (Kolluoğlu-Kırlı, 23- 24)

The transition from the Ottoman Empire to the Turkish state involved the drawing of a new human and spatial geography. The construction of a purely Muslim and Turkish nation was an attempt to create a rupture between what belonged to the Empire and what was imagined to be belonging to the nation- state. This involved not only the eradication of the synthetic imagination of the Empire and the construction of the imagination of the new nation, but also the eradication of Ottoman spaces and the creation of new spaces as places of memory (les lieux de mémoire) (Nora 1996; Agnew and Duncan 1989) (Kolluoğlu-Kırlı, 4)

71 Following Biray Kolluoğlu’s calling of these memories of pre-fire Smyrna as

‘shadows’ or the destructed zone as the ‘phantom limb’, I will try to think of

Levantines as part of cosmopolitan Smyrna having a similar ghost effect as residues of what the burned down place signifies. Levantines’ bodies and the spaces they have produced can also be considered as places of memory, as the remaining threats to the nation-state’s inauguration and its appropriation of Izmir’s space.

The burnt down space, as Kolluoğlu denotes, has a ghostly existence. For

Mayerfeld Bell, “ghosts are much of what makes a space a place. Yet, as well, ghosts are terrically specific.” (Mayerfeld Bell, 815) Ghosts are “terrically specific” because as we know spaces inhere webs and layers of social relations. Ghosts not only belong to certain spaces but they are also always part of communities, they conjure up the particular presence of particular communities in space. The ghosts of place revoke our ties with the communities they are a part of and replace us in place. For

Mayerfeld Bell, it is because the social relations of communities are embedded in place that we feel a bond of kinship to certain places and a lack of kinship with others. In his words: “through ghosts, we re-encounter the aura of social life in the aura of place.” (Mayerfeld Bell, 821)

Kolluoğlu points to the exorcism of the disquieting ghosts of the multi-ethnic, multi-religious Ottoman Smyrna from the burnt down area as the Republic denied its kinship relations with it. However, it seems that the Levantines were able to maintain their kinship relations with the ghosts of the fire area. Just as Mayerfeld Bell points that we treat spirited places with ritual care, objects saved from the fire and the pictures depicting prefire Smyrna were treated almost as holy by their holders. Mme

Andrea endears the vase, that her mother filled with liqueur before grabbing her children to escape the fire. It is the only object saved from her parents’ burnt-down

72 house. Similarly, Daniella recited that her grandmother’s grandfather’s photo is one of the most cherished objects of the home as it is the only thing that is saved from the fire. Mme Claire pointed to a calendar that her daughter brought her by telling me that it is her sacred calendar. She showed the pictures of the Sporting Club, the storehouse of figs and tobacco of the Pagi family in the quays and the two storey

Greek houses with their bay windows. She narrated with excitement that she also remembered those Greek houses and that she even used to inhabit them as a child by renting a room in them with her mother. The fact that not only household objects but also the pictures of the Frank quarter, where the social and economic life of prefire

Izmir was concentrated, are treated as sacred points to the kinship relations

Levantines are still able to form with the public life of Ottoman Smyrna.12

Uncanny Presences in the “Home of the Nation”

Freud in his essay “The Uncanny” concentrates on the formation and character of the terrifying feeling of “the uncanny”. The German word for the uncanny “the unheimlich” is the other, the opposite of “the heimlich” which means “familiar”,

“native”, “belonging to the home”. (Freud, 21) Going through dictionaries Freud demonstrates that “heimlich” has two sets of very different meanings. The first set refers to that which is “familiar, friendly, intimate, congenial, free from fear and ghostly influences, homelike, belonging to the house” and the second to that which is

“concealed, kept out of sight, secret, inaccessible to knowledge, obscure”. (Freud,

28) The heimlich turns into its opposite as its meaning expands from familiar and homelike to hidden and almost dangerous. “Thus heimlich is a word the meaning of

12 Many other women referred to the vivacity of the social and cultural life of prefire Smyrna expressing their Europeanness through a good conduct of art and culture as I will elaborate in the next chapter.

73 which develops towards an ambivalence, until it finally coincides with its opposite, unheimlich. Unheimlich is in some way or other a sub-species of heimlich.” (Freud,

30)

Freud explains this ambivalent relation between the heimlich and the unheimlich by arguing that the unheimlich is in reality nothing “new or foreign” but something which was once homely and intimate but then estranged, disavowed by repression for some reason. As he explains “...the unheimlich is what was once heimisch, home-like, familiar; the prefix ‘un’ is the token of repression”. (Freud, 51)

This repression is most of the time due to infantile complexes for Freud. He gives as an example the uncanny feeling that occurs when one thinks of the fantasy of “buried alive”. This for him is a transformed form of the fantasy of intra-uterine existence.

The mother’s womb is the first home of every human and supposed to be a place of lustful pleasure.13 On the other hand, Schelling’s definition of the uncanny that Freud makes reference to in his essay serves as a more general framework for the feeling of uncanny that arises in relation to repression. As Freud quotes: “According to him everything is uncanny that ought to have remained hidden and secret, and yet comes to light.” (Freud, 28)

I want to argue that the non-Muslim inhabitants of the new “home of the

Nation” including the Levantines arouse such an uncanny effect as Freud describes as long as they are perceived as residues of the old “home of the Empire”. Along with other residues of the Empire its non-Muslim communities were disinherited, exteriorized, turned into strangers. The community of the new “home of the Nation” was imagined through disaccording a legitimate presence to the non-Muslim

13 Susan Shapiro argues that Freud by treating “the Uncanny as a form of homesickness or nostalgia, of the desire to “return home” to the mother’s womb” considers this as a universal experience and displaces his uncanniness as a Jew. Shapiro making reference to a literature written on Jews explains that Jews as a once homeless people threatened the idea of home, homeland and nation. (Shapiro, 168)

74 residents of the Empire. In other words, the new “home of the Nation” has been founded and stabilized by a continual violence and dispossession to force and keep out the non-Muslims of the Empire both physically and symbolically. The old “home of the Empire” has often such a destabilizing effect precisely because the new “home of the Nation” is enacted through the disavowal of the old. It is in this respect, the non-Muslims of the Empire arouse uncanny feelings because they are not indeed strangers. They were once a part of the very home that the Turkish Muslims inhabited but only then exiled to return as ghosts of the old “home of the Empire” that evoke the traumatic experience of losing that old home.

Although all non-Muslims became strangers in the new “home of the

Nation”, the Greeks and Armenians differ from the Jews and Levantines in certain respects. While the Greeks and Armenians claim to be autochthonous inhabitants of

Anatolia from time immemorial, the Jews and Levantines mostly trace their origins to a certain event or time in history how far back it may be.14 In this respect, it might be said that the Greeks and Armenians arose a stronger uncanny effect by questioning the naturalness and exclusivity of the bond of Turks to their national lands.

14 The Turkish Jews trace their arrival in Turkey to the year 1492 when they had been expelled from Spain and transported to the Ottoman Empire. The 500th anniversary of the coming was celebrated in 1992. (Bali, 15) On the other hand, Levantines always trace their origins to Europe.

75 Furthermore, the memory of conflictual relations15 that occurred at the end of the Empire with Greeks and especially the Armenians haunt Turkish politics again and again. 16 Today, the word Armenian immediately recalls genocide and the accompanying nationalist campaign mobilized against it. The word Greek recalls the war waged against Greek troops and the finalization the “Independence War”. In the

Turkish nationalist historiography, both Greeks and Armenians are accused of having betrayed the Empire that had allowed their peaceful existence for centuries in order to pursue their separatist ambitions by the help of the Grand Nations. They bitterly stand for the Empire’s dissolution. In contrast to this tormented history, neither the word Levantine nor Italian, French, English (the nations that the Izmirian Levantines mostly trace their origins to) do have such strong haunting connotations.

Actually the word Levantine along with the moribund community seems to have been forgotten by the residents of Izmir.17 Many of my interviewees told me that they didn’t usually use Levantine to present themselves because most people except the rooted, native Izmirians know the word and that they don’t want to take

15 Çağaptay argues that nominal Islam played a key role in defining Turkishness in the 1930s. In view of this definition, the non-Muslims appeared as remote from Turkishness. However, for him among the non-Muslim population there also occurred a difference in relation to Turkishness. The Jews were more easily tolerated in contrast to the Christian citizens who were considered as elements inassimilable toTurkishness. (156) As he writes: “Rather than confronting the Turks’ Muslim faith, Christianity stands as a challenge to their nominal Islamic identity.” (139) For him, as I noted, it is this nominal Islamic identity that draws the borders of Turkishness most clearly. Çağaptay points to two significant historical developments to understand the adverse stance of the 1930s High Kemalism towards Christianity. As he writes: “The ethnic cleansing of the Ottoman Muslims by the Christian powers and the recent conflicts with the Christian nations...” (137)

16 Today to manage the reappearing demands voiced from the different political arenas of the European Union and the USA to accept the “Armenian genocide” is still among Turkey’s primary international concerns.

17 The word Levantine began to be remembered again in the 1990s with the rising interest in the multi- cultural co-existence of Empires as an alternative imaginary to that of the more exclusive imaginaries of national identity. The Levantine heritage of Izmir is popularized in the exhibitions, symposiums and publications supported especially by the Izmir Municipality concentrating on the history of Izmir.

76 pains explaining it. Actually, Albertina who is now 28 year old recounts that she herself actually heard the word for the first time when she was 16 year old from one of her friends.18

One of my interviewees Marilisa told me that she usually presented herself as

Italian origined Turk. She stresses that she can comfortably tell that she is Italian origined because there is nothing significantly troubling in history and adds that if she were Greek or Armenian she would most probably refrain from sharing this information.

I don’t use ‘Levantine’ because people ask what Levantine is. There are people who don’t understand. They don’t know some words that are so familiar to you. I can only say that I am of Italian origin, because there hasn’t occurred anything bad in history. Only the incident with Apo occurred, nothing else. That’s why I can say it with ease of heart. But I couldn’t say it if I was of Greek or Armenian origin. (Marilisa, personal interview, 9 August 2007)

It seems that the fact that Levantine identity is relatively unencumbered by the burden of a history of conflictual relations indeed provides Levantines with a confidence to utter their presence.

In the next chapter, I will try to understand the ways Levantine women remake their ties to Izmir that they so dearly love by moving between the ‘home of the nation’ and the ‘small community home’ that constantly rebuild each other.

18 This points to the fact that families do not adopt Levantinity as an identity and hat they do not pass it down to their children, which is understandable in a context of nationalisms. I also want to refer to a recent documentary on the Levantines of Izmir named “Bazıları Onlara Levanten Diyor” that can be translated as “Some call them Levantine”. It is directed by Ragıp Taranç from the Faculty of Arts of Dokuz Eylül University in 2005. Throughout the documentary the “Levantines” interrogated argue that Levantinity has strong negative connotations that refer to European biases on the cosmopolite Izmirian community. They stress that they actually consider themselves and want to be accepted as Christian Turks.

77 CHAPTER 4: ENCLOSING AND UNCLOSING HOMES: LEVANTINES RETERRITORIALIZING THEMSELVES IN IZMIR

The Borders of Levantinity

A Moribund Community

Most of the women I have talked to have an in-group knowledge of old Levantine families of Izmir which are matched with certain districts of the city that have their own hierarchical imagination.1 Actually, for many, the borders of Levantine community are confined to a stock of surnames in Izmir. Although they might not know each other personally, they recognize the surnames of the Izmirian Levantine families. In this respect, it is not surprising that Mme Beatrice who explained that her ancestors were among the “founders of the city of Izmir”, didn’t consider her seventy years old Italian origined, Izmir born husband whose parents migrated from Cyprus to Izmir decades ago, as Levantine.

Levantinity is almost anachronistic because it is strongly marked by a certain rootedness in the city where the community is unable to reproduce itself anymore. It is almost like there is a list of Izmirian Levantine surnames consented upon by the community. It doesn’t seem possible to be considered as a Levantine, if you are not related to the surnames in the list. Neither being a Catholic, nor being Italian living in

1 For example, Bornova Levantines are distinguished from Karşıyaka and Alsancak Levantines by both of the groups. Bornova Levantines were described as forming a higher class in terms of wealth and education and they were very often denounced as “snob” by the Karşıyaka and Alsancak Levantines. The Karşıyaka and Alsancak Levantines recounted that the Bornova Levantines used to group among themselves distancing themselves from the rest of the community. They added that this is a thing of the past; Bornova Levantines have had to lower the high walls of their mansions just as the rest of the community. On the other hand, I have talked to two Levantine women from Bornova, they were also aware of the perception of the difference the Levantines make among themselves by referring to the districts of Izmir. For example, Mme Rachel who is a Levantine from Bornova named her marriage to a Levantine from Karşıyaka as a “mixed” marriage although both her husband and herself are Catholics. She recounted how her mother was unsettled when she heard about her daughter’s marriage expectations, saying “But Rachel! He is from Karşıyaka!” These differences seem to be mainly differences of class mostly articulated and evaluated through the longevity of one’s roots in Izmir, the ability to safeguard one’s national-communal particularity and ‘traditions’, the purity of the accent with which one speaks one’s national-communal language, the degree of one’s “mixing” with the native populations. However, these are just sweeping remarks that need further research.

78 Izmir suffices to be considered as Levantine. They clearly distinguish “real” Italians or in their words “Italian Italians” from Italian origined Levantines. Furthermore, they don’t seem to have relations with the “Turkish” Catholic converts with whom they frequent the same churches. Moreover, because the families have intermarried each other for generations, the community is also tied with kinship relations.2 It was also suggestive of the space boundedness and parochiality of Levantinity that two of the women I have interviewed asked me if there were Levantines in Istanbul too.

Communal Solidarity

I am told how children of a certain district used to play together either on the streets or in the gardens of their family’s friends, go to the catechism lessons at the church together, and attend the summer camp that the priest of the Dominican church organized in Kalabak.3 Mme Delfina, who had moved to Istanbul when she got married, was in Izmir to make her occasional visits to her mother and brother at the time of the interview. She told me that whenever she needed to sort out a problem in

Izmir, she called her Levantine friends no matter how many years she hadn’t had contact with them. The close ties of the community seem to give naturalness to the solidarity among the community. Later on, when we were at the gate saying goodbye, she told me that when the lock of the gate was broken she asked the priests to fix it so that they could earn something extra. As this little gesture suggests, I have realized how the members of the community help each other, employ each other, and acquire their services and goods from each other as much as they can. The members

2 As Carmina explains: “If I have fifty, sixty friends, fouty of them are my cousins”.

3 I have learned from the officers of the Catholic charity Caritas that the camp was closed due to a denunciation made to the police by the neighbours that Christians have an unauthorized school there.

79 of the community who are in need are also backed up by the better off community members.

Doubling Identities

The 1928 law of Turkish citizenship is based on the principle of jus soli or the right of citizenship based on the territory of birth. Accordingly, Levantines born in Turkey after 1 January 1929 were given Turkish citizenship even when their parents were non-nationals of the Republic of Turkey. In a time when double nationality was not legally possible, it seems that many Levantines secretly registered their Turkish citizen children to the consulates of their nations as a precaution. After Mme Andrea complained about the prevalence of fanaticism and ignorance that manifested itself as hostility against the non-Muslims when she was young in Izmir, she mentioned this strategy that many Levantines used to follow. As she explained:

“Then double nationality did not exist. You don’t know what life will bring. In times of difficulty you begin to think of anything, don’t you? We registered our children who had Turkish nationality to the consulates. But at the same time they had their Turkish identity.” (Andrea, personal interview, 19 March 2007)

It seems that they perceive their presence in Izmir as vulnerable, as if they might anytime need to run away as they did in the fire, or after the laws that restricted their means of survival4. In an era of nationalisms, when human rights are confined to the rights of the citizen, safeguarding one’s presence is achieved through adherence to a nation. (Sarup, 100)

4 As Mme Donatella expresses: “Many passed away, and much more left, they ran away for various reasons, (..) they didn’t let us work, they call it “petit métiers”, there were many doctors, lawyers then these were forbidden, slowly the community diminished.” (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007)

80 On the other hand, in 1964 the law of citizenship changed. The 1964 law of

Turkish citizenship depends on jus sanguinis (right of blood), where citizenship is given not on the basis of the place of birth but on the basis of the nationality of one’s ancestors. The change in the law points to the precariousness of the national belonging of Levantines to Turkey, their status is arbitrarily determined by laws that they do not themselves have a say on. For example, Mme Donatella who is herself an

Italian citizen has three children. The first two are Turkish citizens owing to the 1928 law of Turkish citizenship, while her last child is an Italian citizen as she was born after the issuance of the law of 1964. I have learned that after Turkey accepted double nationality many foreign citizen Levantines applied for Turkish citizenship.

The strategy that Levantines follow to safeguard themselves is that they try to multiply their legal belongings which renders their status more flexible. They both have a strong will to guarantee their presence in Izmir legally and to hold on to their

European origins or “foreignness”5. Unlike many other minority communities many

Levantines have a capacity to make claims of citizenship to the powerful European nations. This is invaluable as many strangers are devoid of such a power to secure their presence.

5 Leyla Neyzi on her book on memory and identity in Istanbul formed through life history narratives includes two interviews with Istanbulian Levantines. She points that these narratives tell the story of complex and ambigious character of the Levantine identity which is shaped through being a stranger both to the lands thay live in and to the lands they believe to originate which she calls as living on the border. She points that although they had married among their local community or occasionally with the Christian Ottomans and lived in Ottoman lands for centuries, they haven’t gone native. For Neyzi, Levantine identity is based on a difference of origin, language, religion, culture and the fading away of the community comes with the demise of the structure that helped create and sustain difference. (Neyzi, 11-26)

81 Enclosing Homes

Community Spaces

Throughout the interviews I have searched for places that the community has been reproduced. I realized that these places were extremely marked by an introversion and exclusiveness. The houses and their gardens seem to be the main places where

Levantines used to meet. I am told how they used to meet in the afternoons in the gardens of the houses in Karşıyaka, how every so often, they used to give dancing parties at home with everyone bringing some food and drink or how they used to celebrate the carnivals at home where men and women dressed in subversive ways.

In summer time, houses in Kalabak and Çeşme turn into a church; they gather the community and receive the priest who comes from Izmir for the Sunday service.

Homes being almost the exclusive grounds for the meeting of the community acquire a semi-public character. On the other hand, churches also seem to have served many functions. Leonora remembers how the church garden, with the kindness of a priest, was turned into a play and sports ground for the children where he installed basketball facilities. Mme Lucianna remembers how a nun used to look after her son along with a few other children in the church after school when she had to work late.

Consulates are also the places where the community meets for special occasions.

Recession from the Public Space of Izmir

I have tried to explain in the preceding chapter how the Levantines faced with the nationalization attempts of the new Republic drew in on themselves receding from the public spaces of the city as they are perceived as threats to the unity and

82 homogeneity of the new nation. One instance of this closing is apparent in the carnival celebrations. When one compares the celebration of the carnival from its descriptions in European travel writing, the difference seems striking. The carnival which used to be loudly celebrated on the streets with the participation of different sections of cosmopolite Smyrna seems to have receded to the privacy of homes. As

Mme Donatella recounts:

Of course it’s strange for you to hear all this; I find it natural because I lived it. It doesn’t seem as past to me anymore. How much I talk to you about them you cannot really understand them. You know, once a year we celebrate the carnival for 15 days. We dress up. Before, the carnival was prohibited. (…) Where could we celebrate the carnival? Only in private homes. (…) We used to dance, have meals at homes and in the Consulate. But then it was forbidden. We did it privately, I remember two times at my cousin’s house and also in Maria’s. Once my husband dressed as a Hawaiian woman and me as Charlie Chaplin… (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007)

It is also significant that the carnival was outlawed or experienced to be so, for it suggests that they conceive their presence in the public space with their particularity as a crime. Carnival is both a continuation of cosmopolitan Smyrniot life and refers to the religious-communal difference of Levantines. However, the public exposure of difference seems to be ill tolerated as it stands as an impediment in the achievement of the homogenous continuity of the national space. Levantines knowing the contempt they might cause seems to have closed upon themselves silently, in their hiding spaces. The introversion apparent in the community bestows houses a special importance as the gathering ground and reproduction site of the community. For houses are like the caskets Bachelard alludes to: “When a casket is closed it is returned to the general community of objects; it takes its place in exterior space. But it opens!” (Bachelard, 85) When the casket is opened there reigns another world in it, the life of another community with its peculiarities appears. But unlike Bachelard

83 assumes as he writes “then, the outside has no more meaning”, the outside is inevitably there; it is actually what has constituted the inside.

Homes Becoming Prisons

The elderly women, who were grown up in the formative years of the Turkish

Republic, when Turkification policies were at its peak, are the ones who tend to mention the oppressive aspects of communitarian life. It seems that as the perceived threats generated by the nationalist policies grew, the homes contracted, its doors became vigilantly guarded, the home became suffocating. Or in other words, as the home was endeavored to be made into a more secure, a more ‘homey’ place, it began to get ‘unhomey’. The community became ever more demanding of its members. As a result, it appears that not only had the community receded from the public space of

Izmir but also its own small home got ever smaller.

Mme Roberta explains how the community was especially tight regarding young girls. Their relations with the Turkish-Muslim community were perceived as so threatening that they were even discouraged from learning Turkish.

It was terrible fanaticism, as I told you, which began to soften slowly. Especially for the young girls, foreigner or Levantine, it was a taboo to have relations with Turkish boys. But this was both ways. Not only mixed marriages didn’t exist, but even when we met each other on the street and spoke, joked, it was a problem. We were children, weren’t we? Save you! if someone saw you and told about it to your father. And their mothers also used to say ‘Why do you speak to these dirty, gavur (infidel) girls?’ And the schools, oh my God… Everyone said you shouldn’t speak to Turks, you shouldn’t marry with Turks, you shouldn’t do this you shouldn’t do that. Men, because of their jobs, had relations between communities, but not we as girls. And for avoiding us from having more serious relations they didn’t teach us Turkish. You see how it works. I learned Turkish while my children were going to school. I had to help them, but I also wanted to learn myself. I acquired Turkish friends after I got married, because then I was free. You see,

84 I was free to visit whom I wanted. (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007)

As a woman she only felt liberated to form relations out of the community when she got married or in other words when her enmeshment in the community was secured with the conjugal bond.

Mme Claire similarly, complained about the “fanaticism” of the Levantine community. Although she attended the public school and then began to work she nevertheless was afraid that her mother will see her with her male Turkish friends.

She complains about the religiosity of her mother who was raised in the Catholic school of Dames de Sion and depicts herself as a modern woman. Mme Claire having felt the oppressiveness of the ‘home of the community’ praises its recent relaxation:

At that time people were mostly fanatic.But I was not so.I was as open minded as today. I had Turkish friends and we were greeting and talking with each other on the ship while we were returning home from the office. I was an adult, but at the begining of our street I was warning my friends to avoid walking together, because my mother could have seen us. Because I was so scared of my mother. There was fanaticism. Now mentality has changed. This is the right way. My mother graduated from Dames de Sion, Karşıyaka.That is why she was so devouted. But now I am a modern woman. My mother used to start her sentences 'when I was in Dames de Sion' every so often.When I was a teenager one day I said 'enough mom, we are not in Dames de Sion anymore'. I think it was a high school for girls, I didnt see it in fact.When Atatürk started to rule, the nuns who were the teachers went away and the school closed. The university has changed the life in Izmir. There were universities in Istanbul of course but very few people were studying there. Since the Aegean University has opened some traditions started to change. Many couples met and chose each other as wife or husband there and that was the right way.There were so many men that I liked but I couldn't even became a friend because of my mother. Some of my mother's friends got married with Turkish men. But it was very rare. There was so much fanatism on those days on both sides (Catholics and Muslims). How stupid, narrow minded were Catholics, it has changed now a little bit. (Claire, personal interview, 18 June 2007)

85 The home that serves as a refuge becomes a prison when its doors are too tight. It seems that the Levantine community used to exert a pressure on its members, in a particularly gendered way, discouraging them to have strong relations with the

Turkish Muslims to secure its borders that are redrawn in its encounter with Turkish nationalism.

Homemaking

Now, I will try to understand how homes as caskets are arranged and why they are arranged in these particular ways by using Young’s concept of homemaking.

Despite the general tendency to devalorize the house and the home in feminist literature, Young tries to open new ways of thinking for revaluing the house and the home. She comes to such an understanding by revising Heidegger’s conceptualization of building and dwelling in the light of Irigaray’s criticism of

Heidegger.

In his essay, “Building, Dwelling, Thinking”, Heidegger considers building as fundamental to ‘Being’, as, only through building are we capable of opening up spaces that are inhabitable. For him, the way, humans are on earth, the way humans dwell is building. Heidegger considers building as comprised of two forms: one is cultivation/preservation and the other construction. Cultivation/preservation includes the activities that makes things by letting them be; like growing vegetables. On the other hand, construction includes the erecting of material supports for daily lives, and this is where, for Heidegger, historicality is achieved.

Building in the sense of preserving and nurturing is not making anything. Ship building and temple making, on the other hand, do in a certain way

86 make their own works. Here building, in contrast with cultivating, is a constructing. Both modes of building –building as cultivating, Latin colere, cultura, and building as the raising up of edifices, aedificare- are comprised within genuine building, that is, dwelling. (Heidegger, 101)

Young criticizes Heidegger, first and foremost, for privileging the act of construction as the basis of subjectivity and history, and relegating preservation to a secondary, supplementary status. For her, this privileging of construction before cultivation points to a male bias as these two aspects of building are historically gendered.

Women do not usually build in the sense of constructing ‘edifices’. Young points that although less emphasized, Heidegger also points that building has a prior condition, that is, building means already dwelling. As Heidegger writes: “Only if we are capable of dwelling, only then can we build.” (Heidegger, 108) Young further explains:

But man’s building, Heidegger points out, occurs on the foundation of already dwelling. Man is enveloped by being, finds himself as already having been at home in nature, which building reveals as already surrounding. This revealing of the world itself depends on a prior ground that sustains and nurtures. (Young, 127)

Young points that for Irigaray this enveloping and nourishing prior presence of nature is the woman. For her, man achieves to be the builder and the subject of history at the expense of the woman’s objectification as the lost home. Although all humans are born with a loss, the loss of the first abode (the mother’s womb), only men are capable of compensating this loss, without having to come to terms with it.

Women serve as the nurturers of builders, themselves imprisoned in a home as the home.6 As Young explains, for Irigaray, this process works at the expense of

6 Young critizes Irigaray’s conception of a home, where man accumulates his possessions as well as enclosing his woman, as historically specific. She stresses that Irigaray falls into a patriarchal

87 woman’s building her own subjectivity. The woman has to derive her subjectivity from being an object of his home, from “her being-for-him”. Women as the ones deprived of genuine building are also deprived of a subjectivity, for Irigaray. As

Young puts it: “…to fix and keep hold of his identity, man makes a house, puts things in it, and confines there his woman, who reflects his identity to him. The price she pays for supporting his subjectivity, however, is dereliction, having no self of her own.” (Young, 124)

As Young stresses, Irigaray draws our attention to what was neglected in

Heidegger’s conception of building, that is, building has a prior condition of already dwelling. This already dwelling, symbolizing the nurturance and preservation of nature, enables men to build in order to make history. Still, here the activities of cultivation, preservation, and nurturance are considered as supplements to the world making act of construction, themselves devoid of such a power. That is why for

Irigaray women relegated to the activities related to domesticity are considered as unable to be a subject of their own. Young criticizes Beauvoir in a similar way and opens up a way to alternatively theorize home and domestic work.

Young explains that Beauvoir in “The Second Sex” focusing on the domestic work (housework) that women are burdened with as immanent and men’s activities as transcendent. This dichotomy is based on an existential scheme where transcendence is achieved through venturing on projects (like building as constructing) that realize individual subjectivity. The time of transcendence is linear, ever expanding to the future; it is history in the making. On the other hand, women’s usual domestic work is repetitive; life needs constant toil and care to get going. The time of this repetitive work of maintaining, preserving life and home is cyclical, universality disregarding the specifically modern and bourgeois character of the home she depicts. (Young, 131)

88 ahistorical. Thus, the care woman spends at home is unapt to construct an active subjectivity. However, for Young, this dichotomy disables Beauvoir to see the creative aspects of the traditional housework.

Young makes a distinction between housework and homemaking through a rethinking of the home space and its relation to identity. Housework such as cleaning the bathrooms, putting away the rubbish, feeding and cleaning the children is indeed repetitive. On the other hand, homemaking also consists of activities such as furnishing and decorating the house which are aimed at making and preserving meaning for the inhabitants of the house. Nonetheless, she explains that this kind of a conflation of housework and homemaking can also be due to the fact that the activities of domestic work usually contain the two aspects together. As dusting a deceased grandmother’s picture comprises both the repetitive, daily chores of housework and the constructing of intergenerational continuity and family history.

For Young, in order to better understand the home, we need to concentrate on its relation with time and history. It is not only Heidegger who privileges

‘construction’ at the expense of ‘preservation’ as the creative act of building in its relation to dwelling. Both Beauvoir in her distinction between immanence (of care, nurturance) and transcendence (of creative construction) and Arendt’s distinction between labor and work downplays the crucial world-making aspects of

‘preservation’ and domestic work. As Young writes: “But as soon as the deeds of founding are accomplished, as soon as the heroic work of the artist, the statesman, or the planner are recognized and celebrated, a new task comes into play: preservation.”

(Young, 142)

As she explains, artifacts contain sedimented meanings and memories. We dwell among artifacts, in the continual enaction of rituals and practices that make it

89 possible for us to make sense of being-in-the-world. Just as people, artifacts need constant care; they need to be organized, framed, cleaned, dusted, repaired, and stored. Their meanings and meaningful use need to be promoted, the stories and wisdom attached to them should be “told, retold, interpreted and reinterpreted” through particular uses and rituals. It is the activities of the preservation of places and artifacts that binds together past and present and help us form narratives that speak our lives as a person, family, or any collectivity of people.

For Young the time of construction marks a rupture in history whereas the time of preservation is based on recurrence. However, recurrence, retelling the stories attached to material objects does not mean their mere repetition. To the contrary, they necessitate creative renarrativization according to the changing context of personal/group lives and thus open up a moral, political field. How the moral burden of the past will be dealt with, how it will be adapted to the pushing needs of daily events and relations is a compelling and delicate task.

The relation of personal identity to home space is thus one that is continuously in the making. Homemaking as arranging of objects in space, materially supports the ones who dwell there. In this sense, homemaking is dynamic; it changes as the dwellers change due to continuous events, interactions, journeys. In this sense

Young writes: “Home as the materialization of identity does not fix identity but anchors it in the physical being that makes a continuity between past and present.

Without such anchoring of ourselves in things, we are, literally, lost.” (Young, 140)

Young tries to reconceptualise the home, following bell hooks, as a place of empowerment. Hooks moving on from the historical experiences of the African-

American women suggests that home can also be considered as a site of dignity and resistance. As a place relatively safe from dominating and oppressive social

90 structures, it emerges as a rare site where the oppressed can care for each other and build more humane relations. Hooks accepts that home is “associated with safety and the making of identity”, however, for a politically oppressed group, home as the site of identity construction is also a site of meaning making and preservation. (Young,

149) The history and culture of a group of people can be the material for a subversive political gesture. The stories, food, songs, artifacts and the attached wisdom and narrative thrust are passed on intergenerationally owing to the women. Taking up hooks’ suggestion Young, reminds that “the identity-supporting material of the home can be sources of resistance as well as privilege.” (Young, 149) She stresses that as long as preservation is enacted not nostalgically7 but through turning remembrance into a politically responsible reinterpretation, home can serve as a place of political agency.

As I have tried to explain in the preceding chapter, the home, as bell hooks also emphasizes can serve as a refuge where the family or the community can affirm each other. The home spaces seem to have been especially important to the community at times when the Levantines’ presence in the public space with their particularity was ill tolerated. In almost all the houses, except that of the “mixed” couples, there were religious symbols of a variety. For example, all the living rooms contained a picture of “the last supper of Jesus” near the dining table. Homes, with their relative seclusion, provide a ground for the showcasing of Catholicism whose symbols and ceremonies were disappeared from the public space of Izmir with the foundation of the Republic of Turkey.

7 She considers nostalgia as “a longing flight from the ambiguities and disappointments of everyday life”. (Young, 143) For her, nostalgia is based on an escape from and a denial of the burden of the past, whereas rememberance is based on an affirmation of the burden the past in the future.

91 On the other hand, most of the homes I have visited contained pictures denoting the family’s attachment to Izmir. In Mme Renata’s, Mme Marilisa’s, Mme

Claire’s houses there were framed photos of old Izmir either in the halls or living rooms. Mme Suzan also had an oil painting done by her father’s aunt decades ago, picturing his father in front of the foundation of their old house. Mme Anna and

Mme Sophia had landscapes of Izmir’s environs in their living rooms. Mme Andrea had the photo of a deceased ancestor who had constructed the first house (now turned into an apartment block) in the land the family has inhabited after they had moved from Alsancak to Karşıyaka due to the fire.

Another set of endeared objects were recounted in their relation to European culture. For example, Mme Carmina explained how she cherished the books that belonged to her ancestors.

My father’s grandmother was Parisian. They had grape fields but then a sort of insect destructed the fields and they came to Izmir to find work. I think she was a tailor, she was a coupeuse (the one who cuts clothes before they are sewn). Then I think she met my father’s grandfather who had a store or something. But my father’s grandmother was Parisian, she once sat on the lap of Jules Verne and who gave her this book. Let me ask my son he knows such things as he is interested in them. (..) The empress gave her this book that I still keep. And there are the holy books of my grandfather, holy books; they are very antiquated form the 1800s. There is a very small antique carpet from my mother’s mother. Of course these things remind us of our ancestors. (Carmina, personal interview, 11 June 2007)

These books seem to anchor Carmina’s imagination to her origins. They are also symbols that connote rootedness, Europeanness, urbanity, class as wealth and status.

Lastly, I want to refer to the family trees that are abundant in the community.

They seem to have a special function in the anchoring of families in distant and immediate geographies of belonging. These family trees most often start with the ancestor that had first come to Izmir by leaving Europe.

92 For example, Mme Geraldine gave me a book named “Family Records: A record of the origin and history of the Giraud and Withall families of Turkey” by

Edmund Giraud and “And a Short History of the La Fontaine Family” by James La

Fontaine. She told me that I can find all the information I need about their family there.

The book includes a short note at the beginning which is also telling:

“Dedicated to the families in question and not for sale and circulation to the public”.

It was printed in London by Adams Bros. and Shardlow, LTD. in 1934. The first sentence of the book is as follows: “My earliest ancestor known to have come to settle in Turkey was my great-great-grandfather, Jean Baptiste GIRAUD.” Then we learn that he was born at Antibes on 4 August 1742.

Mme Geraldine who considers her ancestors to be among the founders of

Izmir remakes her ties to the city by this family history book that proves her rootedness in the city. However, she also does something else. She establishes that her origins are in Europe, how distant that might be. In the interview, she pointed to having a deep knowledge of European arts and cultures as a quality that differentiates

Levantines as many other Levantine women also stressed.8 It is also significant that the book includes the note that it is not for circulation but for private use. The fact that the book is shelved on the private library of the house, although the family is indeed one of the most influential families of old Izmir, points to the importance of the home for the Levantines as a place to anchor and remake their identities. The book, on the one hand, is an interpretation to remember the privileged position of a once wealthy and influential family, but on the other hand, it is a form of resistance

8 While she praised the social and cultural life of prefire Smyrna acclaimed as “petit Paris” (small Paris) with its operas and theatres; she added that when she goes to the opera nowadays in Izmir, she can’t help but laugh at the mistakes that the performers occasionally do because they are so lacking in quality and expertise.

93 against the will of the nation-state to erase from memory Izmir’s cosmopolitan history.

Uneasy Encounters

Disinheritances through Shame

The “Citizen Speak Turkish!” campaign, which had started in the Single Party Era

(1919-1950) and was revived at different moments till the middle of 1960s, seems to have a special importance in the Levantines experience of the city space of Izmir. It seems to have contributed to both the enclosing of the home and its unclosing.

Although only some aged Levantine women referred specifically to the campaign, many other middle aged women expressed their uneasiness when their parents spoke

Greek, French or Italian in the streets of the city. While older women experienced the years when the campaign was at its highest, middle aged women who went to

Turkish schools seemed to have a more troubled relation with language.

The children of Levantine families who were born after the 1930s attended

Turkish schools as they were given Turkish citizenship even when their parents were foreigners. The 4ht act of the 1312 numbered law concerning Turkish citizenship issued in 23 May 1928 decrees that the children of the foreigners who are born after

1929 will be Turkish. (Berki, 1950) The Italian origined Turkish citizen Levantines were unable to attend the Italian primary school in Izmir in contrast to Italian citizen

Levantines. 1771 numbered law issued in 1931 decrees that “Children of Turkish nationality who enter school in order to receive primary instruction may attend

Turkish schools only.” (Çağaptay, 128) The public education seems to be where the children of Levantine families first encounter their strangeness.

94 Many middle aged women whose parents used to speak French, Italian and

Greek at home have memories of the difficulty they had experienced at Turkish schools. Carmina who had her first 2 years of primary education in the Italian school had a hard time adapting to the Turkish school.

They sent me to the Italian school so that I could learn Italian. Then they didn’t want Turkish citizens. Therefore I couldn’t study there further after two years. Having had to change the school has been a painful memory for me. (…) It was very boring to have to study in a Turkish school while knowing Italian. I had many difficulties because we weren’t speaking Turkish at home. It was tough to learn Turkish in the third grade. (Carmina, personal interview, 11 June 2007)

Carmina was worried when her son started school, thinking that he might have a hard time like her for although she took care of speaking Turkish at home she also spoke a number of other languages to him. Similarly, both Vanessa and Rebecca explained that after having a hard time speaking decent Turkish at primary school they forbid their parents to speak French to them at home. Today, both of them resent it and say that it would be nice to be able to speak another language.

Bali stresses that public schools most often accentuate the difference of non-

Muslims rather than contributing to the creation of unified secular citizens. (Bali,

525-526) In the case of Levantines, it seems that they managed to foster a certain kind of affiliation with the Republic but only at the expense of recognition of their difference and its denial through shame. As Bauman expresses, assimilation inheres a deep social hierarchy, it assumes “the superiority of one form of life and the inferiority of another”. (Bauman, 105) It demands self-effacement for the grant of admission into the national society.

Rebecca explained how she was bothered when her mother spoke Greek loudly with her friends on the streets when she was a small girl. Similarly, Anna

95 mentioned her primary school days. Her nanny used to come to pick her up from school. She remembered how she used to insist her nanny not to speak French with her on the way back.

These instances show that even as little children they were aware of the uncanny feeling they were capable of arousing when their difference-strangeness was revealed. It was not the public domains but the closed circles of the family and the community that they felt accepted as themselves to live in their mother tongues, in other words “at home”. However, if this was so, if the seclusion of the homes were possible then both Vanessa and Rebecca would not put a ban on French or Greek at home. The shame aroused through the revelation of one’s difference in the national schools seems to have also changed their ‘secluded’ homes.

Bauman explains how the modern nation-state eradicates communal structures of self-management, traditions, and forms of life with an intolerance for the heterogeneity of cultural forms of the subjected populations under its jurisdiction.

It deliberates on a large scale social management for uniformity of values, life-styles, customs, speech, beliefs and public demeanor. (Bauman, 111) Tearing down the old homes of communal solidarity, it imposes the home of the nation. However, just because the order of the new home of the nation endeavors to come to life by the denigration of the old homes of a variety, it creates homelessness and uncanny effects. The mother tongue is where one moves freely, playing with and distorting it.

It is where one finds expressions for the most emotionally laden and intimate situations. Furthermore, and maybe most importantly the language is where the memory of a community is condensed with all the stories and wisdom attached to it.

In this respect, the disinheritance of language also means the disinheritance of the peculiarity of the cultural forms of a community. Today, many Levantine parents

96 especially in the” mixed” families do not teach their native languages to their children. Similarly, many religious communal activities began to be carried out in

Turkish. The church gives parts of its services and catechism in Turkish to be able to reach the younger members. However, for the Levantines of a certain age this is unsettling. They say how they cannot get the same taste from the ceremony and how they feel alienated when it is held in Turkish. Although Leonora is only 36 years old she feels the same:

They have this obsession, and they are partially right actually. The new generation does not know the languages that we know. On the other hand, as the priests sometimes stay for short periods in Izmir, they do not know Turkish although they try to learn it. Our former priests used to know Turkish very well. But the new ones insist on giving the services in Turkish. For example, nowadays, there is only one service at ten or ten thirty. If you cannot make it on Saturday, you have to attend the Turkish service on Sunday. If you think of it, it shouldn’t be a problem; the prayer is the same regardless of the language. But since I was child, I have grown up hearing that prayer in that way. It seems strange to me to sing it in Turkish. It doesn’t have the same atmosphere, because in the end it’s a theological language and some words cannot be translated into Turkish. They try words that are close in terms of meaning but because I know Turkish well it is unsettling for me. I stop and get fixed on a word thinking for a better word. In the meantime the priest tries hard to read in Turkish, he stops, skips, misreads but nevertheless goes on trying to perform the service in Turkish. In the end it loses its meaning and solemnity for me. Personally I began not to go to the services for this reason. (Leonora, personal interview, 20 April 2007)

Names as Stigma

For many middle aged Levantine women who speak Turkish without a distinguishable accent, their names are the only sign of their “strangerness” that they inevitably carry to the public domain. Rebecca adopts a very common tactic among

Levantine women by changing her Christian name with a Turkish-Muslim one when asked on the occasion of an ephemeral everyday encounter. As she explains: “I don’t like all those questions that follow when I utter my name Rebacca like: ‘Where are

97 you from?’, ‘If you are Turkish why do you have this name?’. When I don’t want to be involved my name is Rana.”9

Although Rebecca is adopting this tactic to facilitate her moving about the city without being stigmatized, she nevertheless resents that she gets questioned about her origins every time she utters her name. She adds that she also encounters reactions like “If you and your parents were born and grown up in Turkey why weren’t you given Turkish names?” She tells that she still doesn’t know how to answer these questions. Sometimes she says things like “this is our habit”, “my mother and father found it appropriate this way”, “they seem more familiar”.

However, she says that these answers do not satisfy her interrogators. She stresses that although she had only Turkish citizenship before she married her husband, and although she was grown up in Izmir, for many people these don’t suffice to be

Turkish. She adds, “You need to be Muslim to be Turkish and I don’t like this”.

For Halbwachs, “first names refers to a kinship link and to a specific person simultaneously” (Halbwachs, 71). The names are significant because more than material signs they refer to the group’s agreement on how the person will be distinguished. It both brings up the specific memory of the family and the memory of the social group among whom the family is situated. The names are chosen from the repertory of names of a particular society. For example, Mme Renata’s son M. Paolo explained to me how they used to celebrate isim günü (name days) instead of birthdays. He used to celebrate his name day, which is the ‘Saint Paul’s day’, with his uncle and cousin who were also named Paolo. The celebration of these name days are a tribute by the society to the saint whose name is borrowed, but they are also

9 “İsmimi söyleyince tabii ‘Nerelisiniz?’, ‘Türk iseniz neden isminiz yabancı?’ falan. Muhatap olmak istemiyorsam benim adım Ra na’dır.” (Rebecca, personal interview, 30 May 2007)

98 ceremonies that establish the individuals in the order and frameworks of a particular society.

Aneleen Masschelein turns our attention to the shift of positions that correspond to the shift of meaning from the ‘heimlich’ to the ‘unheimlich’. The meaning of heimlich changes according to one’s placement considering the house/home. The positive sense of the term occurs if you take the inner perspective where the home is familiar, friendly, intimate and the negative sense occurs if one takes the outsider’s perspective in which case the house protected by the walls is inaccessible and unknowable to the outsider. When the name Rebecca is uttered, it brings to life a community. In a time of nationalisms, languages are identified with particular national communities. The uncanny effect arises because the name

Rebecca belongs to a community that is perceived to be outside the imagined community of nation. It is as if a ‘foreign’ community appears, or a ‘foreign’ home is established in the midst of the ‘home of the nation’. It is within the home of the nation but inaccessible to its “natives”. As Bhabha suggests “the unhomely is the shock of recognition of the world-in-the-home, the-home-in-the-world.” (Bhabha,

445) In this respect, Rebecca’s name is intimate to her as it conjures up certain images that she shares with the Levantine community but, on the other hand, it conjures up images that are foreign and thus threatening to the Turkish-Muslims who imagine their homes as an uninterrupted exclusive unity.

These remarks also explain why for Vanessa her name has been a burden to her throughout her life. She told me how she was relieved when she acquired her

Muslim husband’s surname.

But I have a lot of difficulties because of my name. All of my family is born here and grown up here. Therefore, as long as the name is not uttered, none of the people who speak with us understands that we are foreigners. They don’t ask ‘Are you a foreigner?’ until they hear my name. We have lived pretty

99 much as Turks (...) I usually say that I am an Italian, because I have an Italian passport, because I am not English. What are you? I really don’t know. I don’t know what I am. Completely international! I also want to change my name. I felt relieved when my surname got changed. I also have to change my name. My surname is Giovanni. Before, I had to get a residence permit each year, each year I was living with a different name in Turkey because they never came to write it the right way. (...) Everywhere, also at school, people wrote it wrong. Balcı is a simple surname, I feel relieved now. (Vanessa, personal interview, 12 June 2007)

She experiences her name as a burden because she has lost the community to whom that name meant something. Throughout the interview she stressed that she doesn’t have memories distinct to Levantinity and that she doesn’t even have many

Levantine friends. She said that I would better speak to her mother because she never has had a communal life:

We didn’t live through much. All are my mother’s memories. (...) Members of the new generation do not know much about each other. Before, it was not common for the Levantines to marry Turkish people, but my generation makes marriages with Turkish people and they have Turkish friend groups. Before, the main friend group was Levantine and they had a few Turkish friends from the neighborhood, but now it’s completely the opposite. The main group is the Turkish group. For example, my mother had many Levantine friends and a few friends from the American Girls’ Institute. (Vanessa, personal interview, 12 June 2007)

She finds herself between a lost Levantine community to whom her name has had significance and a Turkish national one to whom her name sounds foreign. For

Halbwachs, individual memories make sense as long they are placed within the frameworks of particular groups. Her name as a piece of memory is suspended and becomes a burden because it cannot be localized in the memory of the relevant community. As Halbawchs says “…a person who alone remembers what others do not, resembles someone who sees what others do not see.” (Halbwachs, 74)

100

Unclosing Homes

Between the ‘Home of the Small Community’ and the ‘Home of the Nation’

Like many other Levantine women, Mme Martina told me how she resented when she was perceived as a foreigner although she is a Turkish citizen grown up in Izmir.

My Turkish is not perfect. Hearing the accent they ask me where I am from. And then they praise me, saying that I speak Turkish very well. But they praise me because they recognize I am a foreigner. In a way I like it. In another way I feel sorry. I feel both of these things at the same time. I like it because they praise me about my Turkish but as a foreigner. I answer back insisting that I am born and grown up here, and that I am a Turkish citizen. It is for this reason…something so hard to explain for the Levantines… You cannot explain that feeling if you are not a Levantine. You both feel yourself Turkish, despite the fact that you are not, and also you feel as a foreigner because you feel you have something different about your origins. You carry it around. You feel ambivalent because it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you are not accepted as Turkish. (...) Don’t misunderstand me, not in a rude, exclusionary way, because you can recognize their sincerity in praising you. I know they have always treated me nice. As a result, you are born and grown up here, your grandfather’s father is born and grown up here, but still you are not Turkish no matter how hard you strive. (Martina, personal interview, 13 August 2007)

Being treated nice does not suffice for Martina, she resents being considered a foreigner, but at the same time, she also depicts Turkey as belonging to Turkish

Muslims and criticizes Levantines who are not happy living in these lands, she even urges them to leave if they will not be content with the treatment they are granted.

The hint at the nationalist perception of the Levantines as having an easy going, well off life in the Ottoman period as the beneficiaries of unfair wealth is suggestive.

You heard my mother-in-law last time saying that many foreigners were obliged to leave after the Independence War, so and so… Can you believe this; they say that they used to live here like the kings until the Turks came. They complain that things weren’t as they had once been. Please let it be different! If you want things to be as they used to be, go and live in your own

101 country, because these people were living in their own lands. It is their right to live as they choose to live. I don’t agree with it. It is not something done personally against them. These people rescued their homeland and they wanted to live like humans in their own lands. But I don’t know if they have disturbed you. That’s your own problem. If you feel disturbed, go like the pashas and live in your own land. (Martina, personal interview, 13 August 2007)

It seems that she distinguishes herself from the community and especially from the elder members of the community by situating herself in the midst of Turkish nationalism. However, this very same nationalism do not grant her the acceptance and assurance that she so much needs, the most it can grant is admiration due to her foreign European origins.

Reclaiming Belonging

Levantine families’ “rootedness” in Izmir, is actually one of the axes through which they insert themselves into Turkish nationality today. For example, Mme Anna insisted on her Turkishness by putting forward her family tree as a proof of her rootedness in Turkey and her love for the country as a proof of the justness of her claim.

I still have an accent. When I enter a shop they ask me “Where are you from?” I tell them that I am Turkish, I was born and raised in Karşıyaka, but my religion is different. They ask what it is. We are Christian I say, but I am Turkish, I accept that I am Turkish. There is no other country for me and I love Turkey, I am Turkish but I try to explain it, there is a difference in religion. My father made a family tree. My father’s ancestors came to Edirne in 1635. Sometimes I tell how many Muslim Turkish families are there that has lived so long in Turkey as my father’s family. When I was young I felt embarrassed and didn’t tell this. Now I tell it and they laugh. I tell them that I am Turkish; my only difference is that I am Levantine. I explain to them what Levantine means, but I feel myself Turkish, what else can I be? We don’t

102 have any other passports, so I want to be accepted. (Anna, personal interview, 2 March 2007)

On the other hand, Mme Renata reclaims belonging by inserting herself to Izmir’s history .The word Levantine’s more pejorative connotations elaborated on by

European travelers and nationalists with their distaste for cosmopolitanism that I wrote about in the first chapter seem to have faded away today. However, the pejorative connotations of the word are remembered only by the aged women and they immediately “rectify” this discourse to redefine and revalue Levantinity.

Levantinity is revalued usually by a reference to European culture, for example, knowing many languages and being cosmopolitan and open-modern in contrast to religious-traditionalist. They consider themselves as having introduced a European way of life to the city and to its Muslim Turkish inhabitants. Mme Yolanda who was at the age of 89 when I spoke to her remembers how the community was despised because of its “mixed” origins. She then revalues Levantinity as the initiator of a

“modern” European way of life through clothing and art to Izmir leading up to the city’s present day image as one of the most “open”, secular parts of Turkey.

And our advantage is that we are called ''Levantins''. Europeans look down on us saying that we are a mixed society, which is true, of course. Often many people coming from Europe just as visitors remained and settled here. They brought their various customs and habits so even if we didn`t intend it, we have become a society full of traditions neither old nor modern. One of them has brought his piano, the other something else, that is to say they brought foriegn arts which weren`t present here. That is why the people here got civilized and Europeanized more quickly. For example, when there was a different style in Europe they immediately copied it , as they were so keen on dresses. Theatre; Elhamra, but not the present small one. My mother and my elder sister said that even Sarah Bernard had come to the old theatre. Russia's famous Sarah Bernard. Opera. She didn`t go elsewhere, only here and to Egypte. (Her daughter: Sarah Bernard, it was theatre.) Because here is like this, it is near the sea. People from different places brought different customs and traditions. One of them gor married to a French and left, the other to an Italian but they also left behind their habits. They unintentionally

103 produced a mixed society. For example, if someone said, ''Today is Christmas, let`s go to us'' to a Turkish officer, he would ask `What is Christmas?` whereas now he knows what it is, that there is a reunion and so on. This part of Turkey, is wiser, more modern, and more open-minded. (Renata, personal interview, 23 May 2007)

It is also significant that in this way she attributes an agency to her community and herself as engendering the identity of the city and thus inserts herself into Izmir’s history. This is a particular way of forming ties of belonging to space when others such as ethnicity or religion are denied. However, on the other hand, she also implies that, had the native communities not received Levantines, they wouldn’t have been as “civilized”.

Doors Speaking of Fear and Desire

A recurrent theme in the interviews was the tension between the fear and resentment of losing the warmth of the ‘small community home’ and the pushing willingness to be integrated into the larger ‘home of the nation’.

Many women despised a part of their community, which is the English residing in Bornova, for their former isolated living and “haughty airs”. Their depiction of Bornova Levantines’ houses seemed to concretize this idea of isolation and grandeur that they attribute to them. Their houses are described as situated in the middle of large gardens covered by high impenetrable walls. They similarly despise the Jews for their isolation and reserved living. As I will explain, Carmina doesn’t like the idea of having security guards at the gates of their churches as Jews have at the gates of their synagogues. The Levantines living in Alsancak and Karşıyaka emphasized their unenclosed life style and the good relations they have had with the

Turkish Muslim population of Izmir.

104 Mme Carmina explained the sorrow and fear aroused in the community with the assassination of priest Santoro in Trabzon in 5 February 2006 and the ongoing threats.

We were frightened of course when we heard about Hrant Dink on T.V. at first. But for the priest Santoro we were saddened and frightened even more. He was killed on a Sunday, we were at church, some policemen came, among us everybody doesn`t know Turkish, so as I am also a translator I found myself in the position of speaking for everybody. They told me to close all our doors and get out from only one door. We asked what was happening and they told us that they had been notified about an assasination. Of course we were disturbed, then we learned that the priest had been killed, so they had some information in advance but they didn`t know the exact location. About a fortnight or a month before this event packages came to the church then they threw stones to the priests in Karsiyaka we were afraid of the situation as a community, we were disturbed and anxious. Mothers didn`t want to send their children, they told me to organize the religion lessons at my home. We told them that we shouldn't be influenced like this. When I heard what happened in Karşıyaka I couldn`t believe this. Do you know what I thought, that man was a bit tough, rude, according to me he annoyed someone who used it as an opportunity, but of course I don`t know for sure. I don`t want to accept, to believe this, for years and years we lived so well without any threats, really I don`t want to believe the threats, but unfortunately, there is an unrest, disturbances in Turkey. The Jews, for example, they have a lot of police security precautions to enter their sinagogues but they are accustomed to these. Very recently there was the wedding of one of our friends in the church, a mad woman entered and they threw her out with big difficulties. A Jewish friend who was invited asked me whether there were not security measures and said that we were mad and would be killed when he realized that there weren`t any. He insisted that we would regret this, warning us that we would all be killed liked this. I told him that we had never encountered such problems and disturbances before and we have been OK. But we really felt very close to the incident, it could have happened here, as they came and warned us. I was really touched because we have very close relations with the priests.We said we will continue holding the lessons at the church, wether you send your children or not. (Carmina, personal interview, 18 June 2007)

The first reaction of the community to the threats seems to be enclosing their religious-communal activities (the catechism for the children) in the home. On the other hand, when her Jewish friend advises her to tighten the security mechanisms of the church, Carmina resents it. She doesn’t want the doors closed. She wishes them

105 to be open; she wants to be secure and confident out of the home. She doesn’t want to acknowledge the incidents as threats to the point of accusing the priest of

Karşıyaka, who was battered and forced to leave, as too tough.

Wanting Homes

Nostalgia for the Lost Home

All the Levantine women I have talked to pointed to the near extinction of the community. Many middle aged women saw themselves as the last generation of

Levantines. They told me how they joked among themselves like “ahh if your daughter married my son...” They admit that although the idea sounds so nice it is almost impossible. The younger generations do not have a community life, they only know of a few Levantines through their parents apart from their kin. However, the longing for the community crosscuts generations.

Many young women told me how their parents and grandparents enjoyed themselves gathering among themselves. It almost sounded like their parents and grandparents used to be in a constant state of partying and dancing. Vanessa told me of the bath tubes filled with ice and drinks, the parquet collapsing out of dancing steps when describing the communal life of her mother. But what was striking was that the mothers of these young women also told the same thing for their own parents. Martina told me that although she had many Levantine friends and they often gathered to enjoy themselves, she emphasized that compared to her mother-in- law’s, their gatherings seem pale. It seems that the theme of entertainment crosscuts generations and stands for the intimacy and warmth of the ‘small home of the community’ that has been fading away.

106 On the other hand, most often younger women were not longing for their own experiences of communal gatherings, they were longing for the memories of their parents and grandparents. Only the very elderly longed for the days they themselves enjoyed and told their stories of the carnival, of dancing parties, of their grotesque jokes among themselves in the first person. It seems that as the “small home community” fades away so does its joys.

I want to consider the longing for the community as “nostalgia” as Lowenthal conceptualizes it. Lowenthal points to the former meaning of nostalgia as homesickness. Many writers emphasize that home is felt most acutely when it is lost.

Only when we lose the home can we reconstruct it as a fantasmic place of well-being. As Lowenthal emphasizes “...nostalgia is the memory with the pain removed. The pain is today.” (Lowenthal, 8) In this respect, the nostalgia for the

‘home of the small community’ can point to the pains/lacks of home and belonging today. It seems that encountering the unhomey aspects of the larger “home of the nation” and its fallacies in encompassing them contribute to the proliferation of the images of a warm and joyful community that is no more present.

Resentment for the Lost Places of Memory and Being an Izmirian

Commonalities with the Turkish-Muslim elite of Izmir was stressed throughout the interviews with a special emphasis on the sharing the same life styles, going to the same schools, socializing in the same places. For example, Lucianna pointed out how just like her daughter, many of her daughter’s friends had piano lessons, and how not only Levantines but also the Muslim Turks spoke a number of foreign languages nowadays. However, this similarity, between the “westernized” Turkish-Muslim

107 middle and upper middle classes of Izmir and the Levantines, was most often recounted as “we don’t have any differences anymore” which means that there used to be differences. This difference is attributed to the former prevalence of ignorance among the Muslims by Mme Donatella. Similarly, Mme Anna also stresses that now everyone is modernized. The difference that distinguished them as Levantines is constructed by situating the difference in between the dichotomies of modernity and tradition, illuminated and ignorant, westernized and backward. Levantines as beholders “original”, “unaquired” Europeanness can derive a pride through these dichotomies and this pride is mobilized to confront the othering processes of Turkish nationalism. As Mme Donatella recounts:

I am Italian in origin. I studied at the Italian school and at the time the school building was like a masterpiece with its dome and marbles. When Osman Kibar was the mayor of Izmir they wanted to destroy everything from the roots. They then felt sorry but it was all gone. Today they protect everything. They came to understand how important all these old things were. They did it out of ignorance. They ruined this wonderful Izmir with her old lovely, antiquated buildings. Now we have so few old buildings. The most beautiful, important and valuable of them are ruined. (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007)

She resents the destruction of the places of memory for her. These places are where she can situate herself through her childhood ghosts among her Italian Levantine community. She feels the hostility directed to the Izmir’s cosmopolitan past that she is a part of. But by saying that they are now sorry for what they have done and that they actually try to rectify it she forgives the perpetrators and opens ways to merge with the Turkish-Muslim elites. However, her anger shows itself as she depicts the perpetrators as ignorant and revalues herself through depicting the spaces that she is tied to with ghosts of belonging as the “most precious” places of Izmir.

108 I explained in chapter two, how Mme Donatella had felt humiliated when she was interrogated by a police about her residence permit, she had had hard time in explaining herself due to her poor Turkish, and that she insisted on speaking Turkish during the interview saying that she wanted to practice her Turkish. She constantly stressed how their importance as a community for Izmir’s history has just come to be appreciated. Especially for the older generations, Levantinity seems to be experienced as a constant oscillation between shame and pride. The fact that nationalism prevalent in the public space of Izmir has changed form in recent years seems to make Levantines more confident about asserting and revaluing their identity.

Mme Andrea adopts a similar tactic to get rid of her former condemnation.

She excuses the nationalist campaigns of “Citizen! Speak Turkish!” by relating it to the ignorance prevalent in Izmir in the past. However, she seems to consider herself and her community to be exempt from this ignorance.

Of course I am Levantine. But at the same time Italian because of our Italian passports. Otherwise wherever you would send me I would prefer Karşıyaka to live in. Because we were born in Karşıyaka and all our relatives and friends live here. We have grown up here; we are used to living here. It is our home now. You understand? Nowadays, the situation has changed a lot. It has turned from black to white, that much. In the past, we were wandering around in the streets with friends; we were talking to each other in Italian or French, as we were attending the Italian school. We were going to school by ship. Sometimes people approached us warning ''This is Turkey, speak Turkish!’ Why do such a thing? That was fanaticism, nonsensical fanaticism. At that time people were like that, they were mostly ignorant. Nowadays nobody reacts in the same way. That is what I am trying to explain. There has been great progress in a few years. In the past, we were afraid. Let me tell you something funny: As I told you before, during our childhood we were talking with each other in Italian and French in the streets or in the market, because you know we easily shift from one language to another. Then some Turks were warning us that we have to talk only in Turkish. We were little children then. We were scared. We thought that if we were caught speaking French or Italian another time they would cut our heads. We were children of course, small children. If they catch us they will kill us we were saying. We knew that we were not

109 living in our own homeland. Then slowly everything began to change. (Andrea, personal interview, 19 March 2007)

It is also extremely significant that she situates herself firmly in Izmir disregarding her Italian and Levantine identities. Many Levantines, who are unable to be encompassed by nationalisms, derive their senses of belonging from Izmir and its smaller districts. Besides the ‘small community home’ and the ‘nation home’, being an Izmirian emerges as a form of belonging that crosscuts and to a certain extent unites or at least interpenetrates these homes. Even if the others may wobble, it seems firm as a solid place haunted by ghosts that are familiar. Although what it means, how it is experienced contains a million versions, the places of Izmir speak to them.

110 CHAPTER 5: CONCLUSION

I tried to understand the willingness of many Levantine women to be included in the

‘home of the nation’ and the tensions this desire contains.1 The constituting role of occidentalist fantasy in Turkish nationalism provides some hints for understanding how the Levantines facing extinction are empowered to open the doors of their homes.

Occidental fantasy deals with the historical distinction of the “East” and the

“West”. For Ahıska, it is where particular imaginations of Turkishness are produced.

She explains that this fantasy arises through nationalist elites’ imagination of the

“West” and of how the “West” (as the ego-ideal) perceives them (as the “East”). The lacks and excesses of this knowledge are what give this fantasy its dynamism and self-perpetuality.

For Ahıska, Turkish nationalist imagination is shaped by the “East/West” divide. This divide serves to draw not only the boundaries between the Turkish self and the “West” (denoting the modern nations) but also the boundaries within this self that delineate what counts as “Western” and what as “Eastern”. Most importantly perhaps, deriving its justificatory power from the historical hierarchy of the imagined entities of the “East” and the “West”, this divide is used to produce and justify certain power relations. Class, ethnic, regional, religious, gender differences are all

1 At the time of the interviews, demonstrations (named ‘Republican Meetings’) were held in several big cities of Turkey to protest the dominance of the “liberal-conservative-Islamic” party (the Justice and Development Party, AKP ) in the political life of the country. To my surprise almost all the Levantine women had joined the meetings. Furthermore, they had voted for the Republican People’s Party (CHP) which was a change for the community who used to vote for the right wing parties that have situated themselves apart from the CHP. The CHP was among the fervent supporters of the ‘Republican meetings’ that were extremely tinged with a particular nationalism. The current divide between the ruling party AKP and the opposition CHP is articulated mostly through Westernization and secularism. Besides, it has also a strong class base. I consider Levantines’ participation in the “Republican Meetings” along with the nationalist middle and upper middle classes of Izmir as another symptom of this desire to leave the introverted places of their fading ‘community homes’.

111 marked by the “East/West” dualisms. They derive their place in various hierarchies also through this imagination.

Levantines through their claims to original Europeanness imagine themselves as the “West” with respect to the Turkish-Muslims. In this respect, as I have tried to show they consider themselves as the original beholders of modernity, development, and enlightenment. The power relations inherent in this particular imagining bestow them with a pride that they bring forward especially when they feel pervaded by shame.

Ahıska explains how the nationalist elites have identified with the “West” as a way to assert their difference from “the people”, the lower classes (Ahıska, 87). In this respect, Levantines2 merge with the secular nationalist elites in terms of drawing their differentiation and superiority from the lower classes on a cultural capital of

Westernization.

Ahıska points how for Turkish nationalism the dichotomy of “East”/ “West” has been imposed on the dichotomy of modernity/Islam. She explains how the

Republican elites had to make Islam invisible to be able to identify with the West.

On the other hand, for the Levantines the diminished role of Islam in the lives of

Republican elites also provides an opportunity for the Levantines to merge with them.

On the other hand, Kentel, Ahıska and Genç point to an important difference in the perceptions of nationalism between the upper, “successful” classes and the lower “dispossessed” classes. The secular form of nationalism more prevalent in the first group is more influenced by the ideal of ‘Westernization’ and thus shaped relatively less by ethnic, religious, and cultural essentialisms, while the latter group’s

2 The remaining community of Levantines in Izmir is composed of middle and upper middle classes.

112 idea of nationalism tend to be more emotionally laden and marked by essentialisms.

(Kentel, Ahıska, Genç, 43) I believe this difference in the patterns of nationalism between the lower and upper classes, affect how the recent attacks3 on the Christians of Turkey are perceived by the Levantines. They most often attribute this nationalist violence to poor, “good-for-nothing”, “strayed” young men from the lower classes and in this way unacknowledge the more diffuse, softened forms of nationalism established among the Republican middle classes of Izmir, that I have tried to explain in the preceding chapters. I argued that the Levantines’ resentment, aroused by this reserved nationalist attitude of the Republican middle-classes with whom they most often socialize, is displaced by the Levantines in the nostalgia for their small enclosed community home.

Unlike Inönü, Atatürk is a highly esteemed personage among the Levantines.

He symbolizes the willingness to westernize and this is where the Levantines empower themselves to join the national community. Marilisa’s story about her mother’s encounter with Atatürk is suggestive: “ When Atatürk came to Izmir, my grandmother was taking a walk with my little mother, then when Atatürk saw my mother and said ‘you look like how I used to look like when I was a child with blond hair and blue eyes’”.4

Today the pattern of introversion that marked Levantines’ home spaces has come to an end and the Levantines increasingly realize and emphasize their similarities with the Izmirian Republican elites. They manage to reappropriate the public space by forming solidarities in the “Republican meetings” with the

3 Mr. Santoro, the Catholic priest of a church in Trabzon assassinated on 5 February 2006, three protestant missionaries from Malatya assassinated on 18 April 2007, Hrant Dink a renowned Armenian origined journalist in Istanbul assassinated on 19 January 2007. 4 “Atatürk İzmir’e geldiğinde anneannem de annemi gezdiriyormuş. Atatürk annemi görünce sevmiş ‘sen benim çocukluğuma benziyorsun, sarı saçlı mavi gözlüsün’ diye.” (Marilisa, personal interview, 9 August 2007)

113 Westernized Turkish-Muslim elite against the “threat” of the increased visibility of the lower classes and Islam (which has served as the symbol of the East) in the national space. In this changing political context, the Levantines, as the “originally” modern-Western Izmirians, find a space for inserting themselves into the nationalized space of Izmir.

I want to conclude, by referring to the counter-demonstration that Chantal

Zakari who is also an Izmirian Levantine performed. In July 1997 in Ankara, a group of veiled women were protesting against the law that will increase compulsory education from five years to eight years as it would endanger the status of İmam

Hatip Okulları (Islamic schools to educate religious clergy). Chantal Zakari held a portrait of Atatürk (as a symbol of the secular and Westernization tendencies of the

Republic) against the group. Her reaction became a highly debated controversial issue throughout Turkey.

While she was praised and supported by certain groups as “the daughter of the Republic”, she was fiercely criticized by others accusing her of being a

“provocateur”, an “American agent”. The general commander of the Gendarmerie

Orgeneral Teoman Koman in his speech of the retirement from office where he was stressing the threat of religious “retrogressiveness” mentioned Zakari’s protest and

“praised” her saying “We couldn’t come to achieve what a young girl has done”5. On the other hand, the mayor of Izmir Burhan Özfatura denounced her as a provocateur and added that it was none of the business of an American citizen to defend Atatürk, if someone would have to do it, it would be him and the İmam Hatip students.

However, Chantal had stressed that she was not an American citizen and that she was an Italian origined Turkish citizen. She was in the United States for her education,

5 “Bir genç kızın yaptığını yapamadık”, (Çam, Yeni Asır)

114 actually she was writing a thesis about the meaning and significance of the image of

Atatürk for the Turkish people in the Washington University Photography

Department. Throughout the interviews that she has given to the newspapers she was telling that she showed a democratic reaction by expressing silently the distress she felt as she more and more often recognized veiled women on the streets that she interpreted as an alarming sign of “backwardness”. However, it is also significant that she defended herself saying: “Only my name is foreign but I am Izmirian”6. Like many other Levantines she was stressing her rootedness in Izmir and her local identity to be a part of the Turkish nation.

I have tried to explain how just like Chantal Zakari, the Levantine women I have talked to increasingly force their way into the ‘home of the nation’ through an emphasis on Westernization which has also strong class dimensions. Furthermore, their rootedness in Izmir endows them with a local identity through which they can reclaim belonging. However, being rooted in Izmir does not only serve as a proof of their belonging. It is much more then that. Izmir is like a house where they know how to make themselves at home. The caskets, corners and coasts of the city are where they anchor themselves against recurrent threats of homelessness.

6 “Benim sadece adım yabancı ama ben İzmirliyim”, (Çam, Yeni Asır)

115 Appendix A: List of Interviewees

This list contains information about twenty interviewees referred to in the text. I chose to replace my informants’ real names in order to disguise their identities as they don’t have control over what I made out of their stories, not to mention how small the Levantine community of Izmir is.

Mme Renata (89)

Educated in Notre Dame de Sion Karşıyaka. Married. She has two children. She has always lived in Karşıyaka and has worked for a while. Polish origined. She speaks

French, Greek, Turkish. She passed away in 2007.

Mme Andrea (76)

Never had a formal education. Married. She has three children. She has always lived in Karşıyaka. Her mother had French citizenship. Her father had Italian citizenship.

She also has Italian citizenship. She speaks Italian, French, Greek, and Turkish. She has difficulties in expressing herself in Turkish. The interview was conducted in

French.

Mme Donatella (70s)

She has lived in Karşıyaka almost all through her life. She has three children. Italian citizen. Speaks Turkish, Italian, French, Greek. She passed away in

2008.

116 Mme Isabella (in her 70’s)

Graduated from Izmir Italian School. Married. She has two children. She has always lived in Alsancak. She speaks Italian, French, Turkish and Greek.

Mme Roberta (73)

Graduated from Izmir Italian School. She has two children. She has never had a formal job. She has always lived in Alsancak. She has Italian citizenship. She speaks

Italian, French, Turkish and Greek. She has learned Turkish after her children started going to school. The interview was conducted in French and Turkish.

Mme Marilisa (43)

Married to a Muslim-Turkish man. She has two children. Graduated from a high school for trade. She had worked in trade companies and retired three years ago. She has Italian citizenship. She speaks Turkish and understands Greek.

Mme Martina (54)

She has been working in various foreign banks and international companies since she was 17 years old. She has two daughters. Italian origined. She has both Turkish and

Italian citizenship. She speaks Italian, French, Greek and Turkish.

Mme Beatrice (in her 60s)

Speaks English, Turkish, French and Greek. Married to an Italian Levantine. She lives in Bornova.

117 Mme Carmina (49)

She has Turkish citizenship. Graduated from a public high school. She has a son and a daughter. She is an active member of the community. She works for the church.

She speaks Italian, French, Greek and Turkish.

Mme Lucianna (50)

Graduated from a public high school. She has worked in several jobs. She has a son and a daughter. She was married to a Levantine from Bornova and later to a Turkish

Muslim.

Mme Rebecca (52)

She resided in Karşıyaka till she was 18 years old. After Karşıyaka, she moved to

Alsancak with her family. She learned Turkish when she started primary school. She has two children. She worked in several jobs.

Mme Delfina (in her 60s)

She’s the daughter of Mme Renata. She moved to Istanbul after her marriage. Works as a volunteer with children in a charity organization.

Mme Vanessa (32)

University graduate. Married to a Muslim-Kurdish man. She works in the expo department of the chamber of commerce. She has Italian citizenship. Recently she has also acquired Turkish citizenship. Her mother has English citizenship. Her father has Italian citizenship. Her native tongue is Turkish. She understands Greek and

French but cannot speak them.

118 Mme Leonora (32)

University graduate. Married to a Turkish man. She has a child, lives in Karşıyaka.

She works for Caritas Catholic Aid Foundation. She has Italian citizenship, but after her marriage she has also acquired Turkish citizenship. Her father, Italian origined, and her mother, French origined, have Turkish citizenship. Both French and Turkish are her native languages. She also understands Greek.

Mme Albertina (27)

University graduate. She works in a trade firm and gives lessons at the Izmir Italian

School. She has moved from Alsancak to Urla, Doğa Sitesi. She has Turkish and

Italian citizenships. Her native language is French. In the Italian nursery school she learned Italian and Turkish.

Mme Daniella (20)

University student. She lives in Karşıyaka. She has two citizenships; Turkish and

Italian. She speaks Turkish, Italian and French.

Mme Claire (in her 70s)

Graduated from the American Girls’ Institute. She worked in the American Library and in several other places. Her father was a Levantine from Bornova and mother from Karşıyaka. She has had Turkish citizenship and acquired Italian citizenship marrying her husband. Speaks Turkish, Greek, English and French. Has a daughter.

She lives in Karşıyaka.

119 Mme Annette (in her 70s)

Graduated from the American Girls’ Institute. She has worked as an English teacher. Speaks Turkish, Greek, English and French. She has Turkish citizenship.

She has two daughters, lives in Alsancak.

Mme Rachel (in her 50s)

She is an English citizen. She speaks English, Turkish, French and Greek. She lives in Bornova.

Mme Sophia (in her 40s)

She works as a trade consultant. She has Turkish and Italian citizenships. Has a daughter. Speaks Turkish, Greek and French. She lives in Seferihisar.

120 Appendix B: Original Texts of the Quoted Interviews

“Mesela yabancılara oturma ikamet etmek için her sene ya da iki senede bir alınması gerekiyordu bir sürü zorluk çıkarıyorlardı ya karakola gidiyordun ya eve geliyorlardı

(...) kahvaltı ediyordum geldiler sabah sabah beni karakola götürdüler düşünebiliyor musun (...) sormuş bazı şeyler ben anlamadım bir cevap verdim ama kötü cevap değil bilmiyorum bir şeyler demiş bana cevap vermiştim ama ters adam idi komiser hiç unutmam o günü ölü olmak isterdim o kadar kötü. Yani bilmiyorum ikamet defterimde bir gecikme mi var bir şeyleri hatırlamıyorum 10 sene önce bana diyor sen konuşma seni istersem şimdi çıkarırım memleketten. Bir yanlışlığım yoktu sonra konuşurken başka biri çıkmış meydana bu kadar şey etme (bu kadar sert olma) evet, fazla oldun ve adam biraz konuşmasını değiştirdi daha normale döndü, başladı, derken on dakika sonra bambaşka bir insana döndü çünkü anladı bende bir kötülük yoktu. Ve yanlışlık bir şeyler olmuştu ama önemli değil ama yabancı olduğun için böyle hareket etti namussuz ve sonra o da onun kabahatini anladı ve ben giderken bana çay ikram etti gel otur yani afedersin hayvandan insan oldum çünkü benim hareketlerim tatlı idiler yani kötü değillerdi. Şimdi ben sinirli bir insan olsaydım ve konuşmasını bilseydim cevapları sert verecektim anladın mı ama benim sabrım ile tatlılıkla falan yumuşattım adamı ve anladı kabahatli olduğunu o zaman gel gör otur seni üzdüm. Namussuz bir tokat atabilseydim çok isterdim onu o anda ama oturttu

çay ısmarladı ve gittiğimde kalktım ve beni geçirmek istedi hatta yüzüme öyle tokat attı ama kötü değil öyle tatlı okşamak gibi ya bak hayvan nasıl değişti (...) korkutuyorlardı ne bakımdan söyleyince öyle biraz kaba ve biz korkuyorduk çünkü korkuyorduk bir yanlışlık yapmayalım çünkü Türkçemiz düzgün değildi anladın mı o bakımdan.” (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007, 46)

121

“Tu comprant c’etiaent les moments tres difficile. On nous disait ne parlez pas, ne vous disputez pas, on viviait dans le terreur si tu veux. Parceque avec une denonciation dans le vingt quatres heures, on peut devenir persona non grata, persona non grata, est on pouvait t’expulser. Et il y avait beaucoup de nos amis, pas mes amis puisque j’etais petite, de nos conaissances qui a été expulser en pleine hier comme

ça. Si tu parlais un peu plus comme “les Italiens”, par example, “aa Mousollini a vencu la bas tout cela” et quelqu’un l’entendait, tu devenais persona non grata. Alors tout de suit ton dossier allait et tu est expulsé dans les vingt quatres heures. Il y a eu beaucoup qui a ete expulsé comme ça.” (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007,

47)

“Az kalsın babamı hapse koyacaklardı, çünkü babam eve paratoner koymuş.

Biliyorsun şimşek için. Casusluk yapıyor dediler. Geldiler polisler bilmem neler, onu götürmek istediler. Allahtan bizim komşumuz demiş bu bey öyle bir insan değil. Peki nedir bu anten? Paratoner Karşıyaka’da yoktu, en yüksek bina bizim evdi. Yok efendim bu antendir. Almışlar babamı karakola anlat demişler. Ben çok ufaktım o zaman, 70 sene önce diyelim. Sonra anladılar yanlışlık olduğunu ve özür dilediler.”

(Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007, 64)

“Les Levantins etaient tres nombreux ici. Avant l’incendie mais apres l’incendie aussi. Mais lorsque Atatürk a fait la lois sur les minorites, c’est a dire que les minorites ne peuvent plus faire “les petits metiers”, tous ce qui faisaient les petits metiers ont du partir. Les Italiens je crois a peu pres dix hiut mille sont partis. Ils vont a l’Italie, les environs en Ethiopie, Libie, Tunusie, Egypt ils sont alles parceque

122 j’ai eu des parents qui sont alles en Egypt.... Ce qui sont restes ici, ce sont seulment les commercents, ce qui pouvaient faire du commerce. Par example la famille de mon pere est toute partie a Rhodes. Mon pere est resté suel ici parceque il avait été déja fiancé a ma mere et il avait un petit magazin a Alsancak, toujours nous parlons d’Alsancak. Ça c’etais le peuple, les autres qui etaient les docteurs, les ingenieures ont du partir aussi. Alors il n’y est resté qu’une petite minorite.” (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007, 65)

“Alors tout ces minorites se retrouvant toutes seule et peu se sont regrouper autour de leurs eglises. Ce n’etais plus les nationalites qui conte mais c’etait le faite d’etre

Catholique. Ici a Izmir c’etait a Punta, c’etait autour de cette Eglise, l’eglise de

Sainte Marie. L’eglise de Sainte Marie avec quatre ou cinq fidels parceque tout cela c’etait brule ta camena nous appelionst. (...) (Il y avait des disputes pendant la deuxieme guerre mondiale enters les français, les Italiens etc. parce que les Levantins sont tres melanges?) No, il n’y avait pas parceque nous etions quatres chats, tout le monde avait peur, c’etais la guerre. Avant la guerre de nouveau. C’est a dire que dans le malheure on s’unit. Pendant la guerre il n’y avait pas de travaille. Tout le monde avait les moyens tres limités. Alors c’etait pas qu’on pouvait jalous de l’un ou l’autre, il n’y avait pas ça avec ces moyens limités. Et puis il y a eu de Varlık

Vergisi, le fameux Varlık Vergisi.” (Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007, 65-

66)

“Non pasque j’étais trop jeune et nous sommes passés pour l’Egypte immédiatemment. Et mon pére est resté ici pour la maison. Moi, je suis restée trois mois ou six mois en Egypte chez mon oncle. Geceleri İzmir’in yangınıda bağrışma

123 ve tüfek sesleri çok vardı ve bir kriz geçirdim küçükken hep ağlıyormuşum. Doktor dedi bunu al götür burdan bu civardan çıksın. E burda tanıdık olmadığı için amcam vardı Kahire’de oraya gittik. Sonra anlatmadılar yani psikolojik birşey oluyordu.

Davul sesi, geceleri, Karşıyaka’yı ellemediler yalnız asker geldi ve Kemal Paşa burda Karşıyaka’daki evde kaldı ve ordan seyretti İzmir’in yanışını ve herkes deniz kenarına gitti bakalım ne oluyor diye, bağırmalar, ağlamalar, gidenler kalanlar. Bana bir şok yaptı. O zamandan beri hala var, bu yaşa geldim yalnız torunlarım dünyaya geldikten sonra geçirdim bu krizi, davul sesi beni çok fena etkiliyor.” (Renata, personal interview, 23 May 2007, 69)

“İtalyan asıllı olmasına rağmen Yunan tabiyeti almışlar bir zamanda ve Yunanlı görünüyorlarmış. Kurtuluş Savaşı sırasında anneannem küçük. Bir ara Türkler geldikleri zaman şehri kurtarmaya bilmem ne bütün gayri-Müslim Ermeni mermeni erkeklerini toplamışlar, çoluk çocuk fark etmiyor çoğunu öldürmüşler ve anneannemin babasını da götürmüşler öldürmek için, fakat kendisi mimar olduğundan ve çok işe yaradığından karakollara falan iş yapıyormuş bir komiser tanıyormuş onu, ona gidip ricada bulunmuşlar, o da onu geri çıkarmış. Yalnız bir oğlu muydu yeğeni miydi ne onu alamamışlar, o ölmüş. Ee ve onlar mübadele zamanında anneannemin bütün ailesi Yunanistan’a gitmek zorunda kalmış. Bütün evlerini mevlerini her şeylerini bıraktılar olduğu gibi oraya gittiler oradan da Türkler buraya geldiler. Anneannem yeni evli olduğu için de dedemden de Türk olduğu için o kalmış. Bütün ailesi de hala Yunanistan’dadır anneannemin. Öyle de bir durum var, mesela böyle şeyler oldu yani.” (Leonora, personal interview, 20 April 2007, 70)

124 “Levanteni kullanmıyorum çünkü insanlar Levanten ne diye soruyorlar anlamayan insanlar var. Size çok yakın gelen bazı kelimeleri bilmiyorlar. İtalyan asıllıyım diyebiliyorum sadece çünkü tarihte kötü bir şey olmamış; sadece bu Apo’nun olayı oldu hiçbir şey olmamış o yüzden gönül rahatlığıyla söylüyorum ama Yunan asıllı olsaydım herhalde söyleyemezdim ya da Ermeni olsaydım bence.” (Marilisa, personal interview, 9 August 2007, 77)

“O zamanlar çift pasaport yoktu. İnsan hayatta neler düşüneceğini bilemez. Böyle zor durumlarda aklından her şey geçer, değil mi? Çocuklarımızı konsolosluğa yazdırdık. Aynı anda nüfus cüzdanı da almışlardı” (Andrea, personal interview, 19

March 2007, 80)

“Ölenler var, gidenler çok, kaçtılar bazı sebeplerden dolayı böyle, kaçtılar (…) yok müsaade etmediler çalışmaya, petits metiérs diyolar... Doktor, avukat çok eskiden vardı sonra bunlar yasak edildi, çok yavaş yavaş communaute azaldı.” (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre, 80)

“Tabi sen bütün bunları duyunca tuhaf oluyor senin için, ben yaşadığım için normal buluyorum. Eski gibi gelmiyor artık bana, ne kadar anlatsam bu yaşadıklarımızı duygularımızı anlayamazsınız, biliyorsun biz senede bir sefer onbeş gün için karnaval yapıyoruz. Giyiniyoruz eskiden yasaktı (...) tabi nerede yapacaktık ancak hususi evlerde (...) Dans ederdik yemek yerdik evlerde yapıyorduk konsoloslukta yapıyorduk. Ama eskiden yasaktı öyle hususi olarak bir iki sefer evde kuzenimin evinde Maria’nın evinde çok yaptık orada bir sefer kocam havaili kadın giyindi, ben

Charlie Chaplin…” (Donatella, personal interview, 4 Septembre 2007, 83)

125

“No, c’etait un fanatism terrible comme je t’ai dit, qui a commence un peu un peu attandrir. Si jamias une fille étrangere ou Levantine parcequ’ils ont commencé a aller leurs grands fréres etudier déhors apporter une fille de déhors la famille ne voulait pas le parler a telle point c’etait tabou. Soi de notre cote, soi de l’autre cote. (...) Il n’existaient pas, ce pas seulment n’existaient pas mais je te dit dans les rues lorsequ’on se voyait, on se parlait, on se rigolait, nous etions les enfants no? Garde si on voyait quelqu’un de notre il allait denoncer a notre pere, et eux leurs meres “o pis gavur kızlarla”. Les ecoles, le mon seignuer, tout le monde il faut pas se marrier avec des Turcs, il faut pas parler aux Turcs il faut pas ça, il faut pas ci. Deux communautes l’une a l’autre les hommes comme par travaille avaient des relations mais pas nous les filles. Et pour nous empecher d’avoir des plus grandes relations, ils ne nous apprenaient pas le Turc. Tu vois un peu comment ça c’est jouer. Alors Turc je l’ai bien appris, lorseque mes enfants allaient a l’ecole j’ai du les aider, et je voulais aussi l’apprendre et mes amis Turcs je les ai eu apres mon marriage parceque j’etais libre tu vois un peu. J’etais libre de frequanter qui je voulait n’est pas.”

(Roberta, personal interview, 24 July 2007, 85)

“O zamanlar çok fanatizm vardı ben hiç değildim, benim için her şey aynıydı daha geniş görüşlüydüm şimdiki gibi olan fikirdeydim. Ama şimdi çok değişti, ben

çalıştıktan sonra vapurla gelirken Türk arkadaşlarım vardı merhabalaşırdık koca kızdım çalışıyordum ama sokağa girerken aman lütfen derdim annem görmesin annemden korkardım fanatizm vardı o kadar çok korkardım annemden zihniyet çok değişti ve böyle olmak lazım annem çok dindardı çünkü Karşıyaka şeyinden de

Dames de Sion’dandı. Çok dindardı, artık ben modern bir kadınım. Hep ben Dames

126 de Sion’da Dames de Sion’da derdi. Bir gün artık genç kız olmustum “Anne yeter artık! Dames de Sion’da değiliz” dedim. Orası kız lisesi miydi neydi ben yetişmedim. Sonra Atatürk gelince soeur’ler gidiyor ve bir daha açılmadı orası.(...)

Bu üniversite hayatı değiştirdi İzmir’de, tabii İstanbul da vardı ama herkes o zaman gitmiyordu ama Ege Üniversitesi açıldığı zamandan beri bence bir ilke adım atmış oldu herkes. Orada tanışıyorsun da seçiyorsun hemen ve öyle olması lazımdı, şey oldu. O kadar hoş erkekler var ki hoşuma giden ama korkuyordum annemden uuuu. tek tük birkaç annemin arkadaşları Türklerle evlenmişti, parmakla gösterilirdi, öyle bir fanatizm. Hem Müslümanlar tarafından ama bizimkiler de çok fanatikti o zaman.

O Katolikler çok kuş beyinliydi o zaman şimdi birazcık değişti, biraz biraz.” (Claire, personal interview, 18 June 2007, 85)

“Parisliymiş babamın anneannesi Parisienne. Babasının bir üzüm bağları bir şeyler vardı bir böcek gelmiş nedir o bağları bilmem neleri mahvetmişler, battı. O da terziliği biliyormuş coupeuse’müş o zamanlar kesen, diken. O zamanlar geldi dükkanları mı vardı bir şeyleri mi vardı burada babamın dedesinin, onunla tanıştı.

Babamın babannesiydi Parisienne onun annesi ve ananesinin o kitap bir Jules

Verne’in dizine oturdu da kim o kitabı verdi, oğlum bu tip şeylere önem verdiği için o daha iyi bilir. (...) Imparatoriçe vermiş bu kitabı tamam. Dedemin kutsal kitapları var arkanda bak mesela bunlar da çok antika 1800 yıllarından. Halı, annemde çok antika annesinden kalan küçücük bir halı var. Onlar tabi ki atalarımızı hatırlatıyor.”

(Carmina, 11 June 2007, 92)

“İlk iki yıl İtalyanca öğreneyim diye yolladılar ama sonra Türk vatandaşlarını istemediler, onun için okuyamadım. Hep anılarımda okul değiştirmek çok kötü bir

127 şey; özellikle dil değiştirmek okumada hala bile bir heyecan kaldı İtalyanca bilirken

Türk okulunda okumak çok sıkıcıydı, evin içinde de Türkçe konuşmadığımız için

çok zorlandım. Üçüncü sınıfta öğrenince Türkçe zor olmuştu.” (Carmina, 11 June

2007, 95)

“Bir de şey takıntıları var, aslında bir yerde haklılar, yeni nesil dil bilmiyor. Türkçe ama Türkçeyi çok iyi bilmiyorlar öğrenmeye çalışıyorlar ama çok iyi değiller. Eski bizim rahipler çok iyi biliyorlardı. Kısa süreli kaldıkları için o kaynaklanıyor ama mesela inatla Türkçe bazı şeyleri diyorlar ki inatla Türkçe yapacam Pazar günleri, evet şu an öyle Pazar günü tek bir ayin var mesela sabah saatinde on da mı on buçukta mı ne cumartesi gidemediysen ve pazara kaldıysan yine gidiyorsun ne olacak dil farkı sorun olmamalı aslında düşündüğünde dua yine aynı dua ama öyle küçüklüğümden beri ben duyarak şey yapmışım ama o duayı Türkçe söylemek bana garip geliyor, o havayı vermiyor yani çünkü şey yani teolojik bir dil sonuçta ve bazı kelimeler Türkçe’ye dönmüyor. Ona yakın kelimeler bulmaya çalışıyorlar ama o yakın kelimeler çok abes. Türkçe’yi ben iyi bildiğim için bana garip geliyor. O an duruyorum dumur oluyorum, takılıyorum o kelimeye; bu ne ya oluyorum kafa yormaya başlıyorum. Orada rahip Türkçe’yi okuyacam diye yırtınıyor ama okuyamıyor, takılıyor, atlıyor falan filan ve inatla da vaazi de Türkçe yapıcam diye uğraşıyor ve bir anlamı kalmıyor yani, daha çok böyle ciddiyeti kalmıyor benim açımdan en azından ben öyle olunca gitmemeye başladım.” (Leonora, 20 April 2007,

97)

“Ama ismimden dolayı çok zorluk çekiyorum. Hepsi ailemin burada doğmuş büyümüş. Ondan ismi söylemezsen bizimle konuşan kimse anlamıyor. Siz yabancı

128 mısınız demiyorlar ismi duyana kadar. Bayağı Türk gibi yaşadık yani. (...) Genelde

İtalyan diyorum, İtalyan pasaportum var çünkü, İngiliz değilim çünkü. Nesin sen?

Bilmiyorum valla. Ben ne olduğumu bilmiyorum. Tamamen enternasyonel. Adımı da değiştirmek istiyorum. Soyadım değişti çok rahatladım adımı da değiştirmem lazım.

Soyadım Giovanni. Her sene ikamet tezkeresi alıyordum eskiden, her sene farklı bir isimle yaşardım Türkiye’de artık değiştirsem de başka bir harfi yanlış olacak.

Heryerde okulda da yanlış yazarlardı. Artık Balcı kolay bir soyadı rahatladım.”

(Vanessa, 12 June 2007, 99-100)

“Bizim pek yaşadığımız birşey yok, hep annemin hatıraları. (...) Yeni nesilin zaten birbirinden haberi yok. Eskiden Levantenlerin pek Türkle evlenmeleri olağan bir şey değilmiş ama mesela benim yaş grubum falan evlilikleri arkadaş grupları falan hep

Türklerle. Eskiden herhalde ana grupları o Levanten gruptu bir iki tane mahalleden falan Türk arkadaşları vardı ama şimdi tam tersi oldu. Asıl grup Türk grubu.

Annemin de böyleydi hep Levanten, bir de Amerkan Kız Koleji’nden birkaç arkadaşı vardı.” (Vanessa, 12 June 2007, 100)

“Benim Türkçem mükemmel değil, aksandan da çıkarıyor, güzel konuşuyorsunuz ama nerelisiniz güzel konuşuyorsunuz söylüyor biliyor ki yabacıyım ona istinaden güzel konuşuyorsunuz diyor bir yabancı için güzel konuşuyorsunuz olayı. Bir taraftan hoşuma gidiyor, bir taraftan hissediyorlar ki yabancıyım neticede yani hem hoşuma gidiyor hem de üzülüyorum ikisini beraber yaşıyorum. Hoşuma gidiyor

çünkü bana diyor ki Türkçe’yi çok güzel konuşuyorsunuz ama yabancı olarak. Ben de hemen arkasından evet ama ben burada doğma büyümeyim Türk vatandaşıyım cevap bu. Ondan sonra yani o bakımdan bir taraftan Levantenlerin anlatamadığı

129 olay.... Bu hissi olmazsan anlatamazsın yani hem şey hissediyorsun kendini Türk hissediyorsun; olmamana rağmen, hem de yabancı hissediyorsun; yani kökünde başka bir olay olduğunu hissediyorsun, taşıyorsun onu. Her ne kadar ben Türküm desem hissediyorum ki başka bir şekilde ne kadar konuşursan konuş hissediyorsun ondan çok büyük bir çelişki içerisinde oluyorsun.(...) Dışlamak anlamında değil

çünkü görüyorsun onlar sana her zaman için güzel davrandılar bana iltifat olarak söylüyorlar ne kadar güzel konuşuyorsunuzu onu o şekilde söylüyorlar hissediyorsun ki neticede burada doğdun burada büyüdün burada senin dedenin dedesi büyümüş yani doğmuş falan ama yine de Türk değilsin yani sen ne kadar da yırtınsan bir fark var, olamıyorsun Türk.” (Martina, 13 August 2007, 101)

“Kayınvalidemi geçen sefer duydun, şeyden bahsediyor sana, Kurtuluş Savaşı’ndan yeni çıkmışlar, bazı yabancılar gitmek zorunda kaldı... Neymiş efendim onlar burada kral gibi yaşıyorlarmış sonra gelmiş Türkler, her şey eskisi gibi değil. E müsaade et de eskisi gibi olmasın! Eskisi gibi olmasını istiyorsan git kendi memleketinde yaşa bu insanlar kendi yerlerinde yaşıyorlardı, kendi hakları bu şekilde yaşamaları. Ben o mantığa katılmıyorum. şahsen onlara yapılmış olan bir şey değil. Bu insanlar kendi memleketlerini kurtardılar ve kendileri insan gibi yaşamak istediler kendi yerlerinde, ama senin tabi rahatını bozdular bilemiyorum onu. O senin sorunun. Sen kendi rahatın bozuldu gibi gördüysen o zaman buyur paşalar gibi git kendi yerinde yaşa.”

(Martina, 13 August 2007, 101-102)

“Benim hala aksanım var mesela bazen bir dükkana girdiğim zaman diyorlar ki nerelisin ben diyorum ki Türküm diyorum. Doğma büyüme Karşıyakalıyım fakat benim dinim değişik diyorum. Peki nedir? Biz Hristiyanız diyorum ama Türküm ve

130 ben yani Türk olduğumu kabul ediyorum.Yani benim için başka bir ülke yok ve

Türkiye’yi seviyorum yani Türküm fakat onu anlatmaya çalışıyorum din farkımız var. Zaten babam bizim ailemizin soyağacını çıkarmıştır. 1635’de Türkiye’ye gelmişler Edirne’ye babamın tarafı. Ben bazen söylüyorum yani Müslüman

Türkler’den diyorum kaç aile bu kadar eski Türkiye’de. Söylüyorum şimdi e tabi gençken insan utanıyor ama şimdi anlatıyorum gülüyorlar. Evet ve diyorum ki yani ben Türküm tek farkım yani Levantenim. Anlatıyorum Levantenin ne demek olduğunu da, fakat ben kendimi Türk hissediyorum, zaten başka ne olabilirim ki ve başka pasaportumuz da yok bizim onun için yani kabul edilmek istiyorum.” (Anna, 2

March 2007, 102-103)

“Bir de bizim avantajımız bize Levanten diyorlar, Avrupalılar yandan bakıyorlar,

“bunlar karışık bir millettir”, hakikaten de Avrupa’dan gelen bir ailenin mesela fazla fertleri gelip burda yerleştiler, yani geziye geldiler kaldılar yerleştiler. Onlar adetlerini örflerini beraber getirdiler ve burası ne eski ne modern ama bir sürü adet edinmiş bir toplum yaptık, istemeyerek biz değil bizim atalarımız. Biri pianosunu getirdi, biri bilmem ne yani burada olmayan bir sanata (...) o yüzden burası daha

çabuk uyandı ve Avrupalılaştı. Mesela bir model var Avrupa’da hemen burada, elbise mesela çok düşkündürler. Tiyatro, Elhamra bizim şu Konak’taki Elhamra yeni binası değil ama eski olanı, ablam ve annem söylüyor işte Sara Bernard gelmişti.

Rusların meşhur Sara Bernard’ı. Opera. Başka yere gitmedi bir buraya bir de en

Egypte. Yani sayılan birşey. (Kızı: Sara Bernard c’etait theatre). Çünkü burası şey olduğu için deniz şeysi. Başka yerlerden insanlar örflerini, adetlerini, alışkanlıklarını da getirdiler. Biri bir Fransızla evlendi gitti, biri bir İtalyanla ama örflerini bıraktı. O insanlar bir karışık toplum yaptılar istemeyerek. Mesela “A bugün noel buyrun bize”,

131 Bir Türk albayı noel ne demek derdi, şimdi demiyor artık biliyor ki toplantı oluyordur şöyledir böyledir. Yunan vardı, Fransız vardı, bu yüzden Türkiye’nin bu tarafı Levanten dedikleri daha uyanık, daha modern, daha fikirleri açık.” (Renata, 23

May 2007, 104)

“Ürktük elbette Hrant Dink’i ilk defa televizyonda duyduk ama rahipte çok daha

ürktük, üzüldük. Pazar günü öldürüldü, o gün biz de kilisedeydik polisler geldi bizde mesela herkes Türkçe bilmiyor ben hemen tercüman da olduğum için konuşma durumunda oldum. Bana dediler “lütfen kapılarınızı kapatın tek bir kapıdan çıkın o kapıyı kullanmayın”. Ne oluyor falan dedik. Bir tane suikast ihbarı aldık dediler. O tabii ki hoşumuza gitmedi. Sonrasında rahibin öldürüldüğü haberi alındı. Demek ki bu önceden duyum alındı fakat neresi bilinemedi ama ondan önce onbeş gün bir ay mı ne oldu devamlı kilisede koliler, rahipleri taşlamalar falan oldu, biraz ürktük cemaat olarak. Karşıyaka’da rahibi taşlama oldu o arada sıkıntı yaşandı. Anneler

çocuklarını yollamak istemediler bana evde yap dersleri dediler, hemen etkilenecektik! (Karşıyaka’ya ben çok şaşırdım.) Ben de inanamadım biliyor musun ne düşündüğümü o adam biraz sert bir adamdı birinin ahdı vardı fırsat bildi bence ama bilmiyorum ben inanmak istemiyorum, yıllarca o kadar güzel yaşadık hiç tehdit bir şey görmeyince, hakikaten inanmak istemiyorum ama tabii ki ne yazık ki

Türkiye’de bir kaynama var. Museviler mesela onlar girebilmek için bir çok polis güvenlik var, onlar alışık. Mesela bizim geçen arkadaşın düğünü vardı kilisede bir deli kadın giriverdi neredeyse öne kadar giriyordu neyse toparladılar attılar. Bir

Musevi de davetliydi düğüne dedi güvenlik yok mu deli misiniz hepinizi

öldürecekler pişman olacaksınız falan diye başımın etini yedi. Ay dedim biz hiçbir zaman bir sıkıntı yaşamadık dedim ama inşallah tekrar olmayacak. Ama ona yakın

132 hissettik önceden de duyulması kapılarınızı kilitleyin denmesi, orası olmaz da burası olabilir dedim. Etkilemişti, o gerçekten çok içli dışlıyız rahiplerle onların birinin olması etkilemişti gerçekten. İster yollayın ister yollamayın çocukları dedik ama biz burada devam ediceğiz dedik.” (Carmina, 18 June 2007, 105)

“Ben İtalyan asıllıyım, İtalyan okuluna gittim ve o okul o bina olarak bir chef d’oeuvre gibiydi. Kubbeli, mermerli... O zaman şeyin zamanındaydı, Osman

Kibar’ın zamanı. Her şeyi kökten, kökten yok etmek istediler her şeyi. Sonradan pişmanlık duydular ama iş işten geçmişti. Bugün her şeyi koruyorlar. Ne kadar

önemli olduğunu bütün bu eski şeylerin anladılar. Cahillikten yaptılar. Bu güzel

İzmir’i mahvettiler, çok güzel eski binalar öyle antika binalar. Şimdi birkaç parça bir

şey kaldı, ama en güzeli, en önemliyi, en kıymetliyi yıktılar.” (Donatella, 4

Septembre 2007, 108)

“Levanten olarak görüyorum tabii. Ee İtalyan, çünkü İtalyan pasaportluyuz, ondan, o bakımdam yani. Yoksa beni nereye göndersen ben Karşıyaka’yı tercih ederim. E

çünkü çevremiz burada kızım. Küçükten beri burada büyüdük. İnsan alışıyor. Şimdi evimiz gibi. Anladın mı? Şimdi tabi durumlar da çok değişti ama çok, siyahtan beyaza geçtik. O kadar çok. Eskiden biz sokaklarda geziyorduk arkadaşlar ile. Tabi aramızda ya Fransızca ya İtalyanca konuşuyorduk. E İtalyan okuluna gidiyorduk.

Mecburen İtalyanca konuşuyorduk arkadaş arasında. Vapur ile gidip geliyorduk.

Bazıları yaklaşıyordu bize, “Türkçe, burası Türkiye, Türkçe konuş”. Ne gerek var?

Fanatizm ama gereksiz bir fanatizm. E o zamanlar kafalar bu kadar idiler. Yani çok cahillik vardı. Şimdi böyle bir şey duyulmaz. İşte onu demek istiyorum sana. Birkaç sene içinde o kadar büyük bir ilerleme oldu. Eskiden biz korkuyorduk. Şimdi

133 anlatınca güleceksin, o zamanlar biz arkadaşlarla aramızda sokaklarda, çarşıda ya

İtalyanca ya Fransızca konuşuyorduk. Çünkü biliyorsun bir lisandan bir lisana rahat rahat geçiyoruz. Yaklaşan Türkler “Burası Türkiye, Türkçe konuş!” dedi. Fakat o zamanlar ufaktık. Bak bizim kafalarımız da, tabi korkuyorduk bu şeylerden.

Düşünüyorduk, yakalanırsak, yani Fransızca veya İtalyanca konuşurken tekrar yakalanırsak bizim kafalarımızı kesecekler. Ufaktık, cahildik tabi o zaman.

Yakalanırsak bizi öldürecekler, diyorduk. Tabi kendi memleketimizde de değiliz.

Sonra yavaş yavaş her şey değişti.” (Andrea, 19 March 2007, 109-110)

134 REFERENCES

Ahıska, Meltem. Radyonun Sihirli Kapısı: Garbiyatçılık ve Politik Öznellik, Metis Yayınları, 2005

Aktar, Ayhan. Varlık Vergisi ve ‘Türkleştirme’ Politikaları. İstanbul: İletişim, 2001.

Bachelard, Gaston. The Poetics of Space. Trans. Maria Jolas. Boston: Beacon Press, 1994.

Bali, Rıfat. Bir Türkleştirme Serüveni (1923-1945): Cumhuriyet Yıllarında Türkiye Yahudileri. İstanbul: İletişim, 1999.

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